


Delight In Misfortune

by erini



Series: BAD END [5]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Platonic Relationships, Reader Insert, Ultimate Despair!Reader, shsl despair!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27450007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erini/pseuds/erini
Summary: Does a funeral also count as a class reunion? When the Remnants of Despair plans Junko's funeral, a tale of mediocrity and a despair brimming with depravity and humor unravels.
Relationships: Enoshima Junko & Reader, Komaeda Nagito & Reader
Series: BAD END [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987495
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. The Arrival

"Get in losers, we're going to a funeral."

From the driver's seat, you gave Hiyoko and Ibuki a wide grin, sunglasses dipped low on your nose to eye your classmates. Despite not having an official license, you insisted on being the one to pick up your classmates for Junko's funeral. Mostly because you liked driving and also to prove that you were a good driver.

 _Besides_ , you had some experience driving. A Monokuma soldier was more than happy to give you some basics. And after crashing two cars, you were proud to say that you were a safe(ish)driver.

Hiyoko scowled, your 'loser' remark duly noted. Blonde hair kept down and decorated with a flowered _kanzashi_ , she still held her head high as the Ultimate Traditional Dancer. Even at the end of the world, Hiyoko wore a pale pink kimono decorated with flowers and a traditional pair of _zori_ slippers. In the bleak landscape of the ruined city, she still managed to be beautiful and untouched by the destruction. ~~If it wasn't for her foul mouth, you would have been utterly captivated by Hiyoko.~~

Besides her, Ibuki waved energetically in the air. In comparison to Hiyoko, she was dressed like a punk rocker that radiated chaotic energy. She still looked like a Hot Topic shop threw up on her (in a good, sensible way of course) yet she grew to be a fairly intimidating person. Piercings galore, she wore a dark kimono-lolita dress with ripped tights on her left leg and a fishnet thigh-high on her right. And completing her appearance was a guitar case hoisted on her back, tuned in place and ready to capture the audiences' attention. Just like her concerts, Ibuki was dressed as if she was meant to be at center stage.

"Who're you calling a loser, loser?!" Hiyoko shot back.

Rushing right up to your van, Ibuki eagerly grinned at you, jumping up and down like a rabbit. "Long time no see!!!! How ya doing?" she inquired. You smiled. Even as a Remnant, Ibuki was just as friendly as ever.

"Good, good," you dismissed. "Uh, Mikan is in the front with me, so you two gotta take the back." Jabbing a thumb in Mikan's direction, she leaned against her seatbelt and smiled shyly towards Ibuki.

"H-Hello, you two…" she stuttered out, giving a small wave. Hiyoko stared at Mikan for a moment at the Nurse, a beat of silence hung in the air as you observed her actions.

Hiyoko smiled kindly at Mikan, eyes crinkling as if she was greeting a beloved friend. Yet you could see how her eyes turned an unsettling shade of red as she spoke. "Good afternoon, Mikan! You look wonderful today. I'm so sorry for your loss, by the way," the Dancer said to her, grief genuine. Junko was precious to Hiyoko too, after all.

"O-Oh…um…Thank you very much for your condolences, Hiyoko," the Nurse replied, hesitation clear in her face. Her gaze was focused on her lap, fingers fidgeting together in a nervous fashion. Despite Hiyoko's new treatment of her, Mikan was still unsure how to process kindness. No matter how false it was.

The mood dampened at the mention of Junko. However, you quickly took control of the atmosphere and prompted them to the back of your van. "C'mon, let's save the grief for the funeral," you prompted, unlocking the back of your van. "The trip is about two hours straight to the hideout, so did you guys already use the bathroom?"

Ibuki nodded, shaking off the somber moment as quickly as it came. "Yup, Ibuki's _engine_ is all out," she winked. "How about you, Hiyoko?"

Her cheeks turned pink, "O-of course, I did, you moron! It was a pain to use the bathroom then put this outfit on!"

You rolled your eyes. "Right. Well, that’s good. I don’t want my van to smell like blood _and_ urine. I don’t have any air fresheners."

* * *

An hour into the trip and you were getting tired of seeing the same old ruined city. You were pretty sure that you passed from one prefecture to the hideout. The stupid GPS Kazuichi built was difficult to read sometimes since there was _literally_ no more streets to follow. But, with a lot of detective work you managed to figure out where to go and were now traveling the freeway for the rest of the hour.

From the rear-view mirror, you could see Hiyoko roll her eyes at you. "Finally," she huffed. "That grease monkey shoulda known that a GPS was going to be useless in this situation."

"Oh, c'mon," you chided her. "It's the thought that counts. He didn't want us to get lost, is all."

"That's not the point! And also, you suck at driving! How many times did you crash into the debris?! An 80 year old man with arthritis could drive better than you!"

Your mouth hung open. "Excuse me, young lady, but I’m the driver here. You can either walk the entire way," you say in your best 'disappointed mother' voice.

Hiyoko huffed, not bothering to retort.

"Ooooorrr," you began teasingly, light smirk playing in your lips. " _You_ can drive, Hiyoko." Your eyes peered over your glasses, meeting with Hiyoko's in the rearview mirror. "I'm ready to die anytime, anywhere, baby."

She flinched, more out of fear of walking the rest of the way than your words. Hiyoko sneered before staring out the window.

You grinned victoriously and kept a steady hand at the wheel. Glancing at Mikan, who was dabbing at the edges of her eyes with tissues, you felt a tiny bit sorry for her. Despite your jokes, you were actually quite upset that Junko died. The world was a much more boring place without her. There was no one like your muse who could drive the entire world to despair, carving her name in the history books as a special kind of monster. You could only dream of being remembered like that, to be acknowledged and known.

Yet, your admiration and love towards Junko wasn't romantic like Mikan's. Out of everyone, Mikan was one of the closest to Junko. Her love towards their leader was intense, toxic, and self-destructive. You couldn't even imagine how much despair she was in to see the object of her affections crushed under a trash compactor.

~~You were a tad jealous.~~

"Bee Tee Dubs," Ibuki quipped, breaking the silence. "I heard through the grapevine that you were already at the hideout a few days ago, preparing for Junko's funeral. What's up with that? Sonia and Mahiru could have totally picked us up."

"Ah, well. Fuyuhiko called me over last week to set up my crew and equipment at the hideout," you explained, shifting one lane to the right as a mountain of bodies blocked the way.

("Oh, look at that!" Hiyoko cried out excitedly, eyes burning red as she rolled down the window and peered at the bodies. "They look like an anthill!")

"So, I went there last week and set everything up. And, besides, the Princess isn't going to arrive for a few days. I might as well have brought you three so everyone can be together. You want your time to mourn, right? Even a few days matter in the grieving process."

Mikan glanced at you, lips quivering. "R-Really? Th-that's so nice of you…! I won't waste this chance and I'll grieve for my beloved as best as I can—" She choked on a sob, tears running down her cheeks in fat drops.

"Oh. Uh…There's tissue in here," you informed her and pulled open the glove compartment, grabbing at a box of tissue and handing it towards Mikan. "Just. Just take all of it."

She stuttered out her thanks, gently taking the box from you. The Nurse blew her nose, the noise rattling your eardrums.

Immediately, you directed your attention towards Ibuki. "We're also gonna be airing the funeral. You know, give the world a taste of despair from the True Ultimate Despair. It's a nice thought, right? That even if you're dead, you can still give despair to the world?"

Mikan sobbed, "Th-That's so kind of you! My beloved wo-wo-would have wanted that. Thank you so much for doing this…!"

You didn't have the heart to tell her that it was Fuyuhiko's idea.

"Ugh, the mood in here is getting me down," Ibuki whined. She dug into her pockets and pulled out a CD. "I know the perfect song for this. Listen to Ibuki's new song _I Burned Down A Refugee Camp and Made Some Tasty S'Mores_. It's got that really sad vibe and plus, it's based on Ibuki's experience! Maybe everyone’ll cheer up with this." The Musician grinned, puffing out in pride as her clenched fist and lightly pounded her chest.

You cast a look towards Mikan. When you locked eyes with the Nurse, you could see the glint of concern deep inside her grey irises.

As much as you loved Ibuki, you _could not_ stand her music. It physically hurt you no matter how much you wanted to like it. The music Ibuki made was beautiful, in a sense. It was sort of like listening to an ancient demon sing with chords that could tear out your eardrums. There was a fine line between pain and pleasure you believed. And Ibuki's music crossed that threshold right into ear torture.

Not fond of having your ears bleed as you drove, you hastily said to Ibuki, "Let's save that for the funeral. I'm sure that Junko would appreciate having your music play instead of some boring-ass organ music. Besides, I don’t want to attract nasty little scavengers and make us late."

Hiyoko pouted. "Let those losers hear Ibuki's music. Maybe they could finally get some _taste_!" Apparently, she took personal offense when her favorite artist was insulted.

"As much as I'm down for murder, I don't got time for it right now," you argued back. From the rearview, you watched as the Musician frowned.

"Fine, Ibuki understands…" she said, sounding like a disappointed child. "Junko was one of the first people that loved Ibuki's music. She might like it if we play it at her funeral."

Your shoulders visibly relaxed, glad you dodged a bullet.

"Yeah. Besides," you say, digging into your center console. You show off your own CD. "When you're sad, always listen to Hatsune Miku. "

* * *

The hideout, which was more of a base than anything, was carved out of a small company office building. It was one of the few structures left standing after the Ultimate Despair cleared out the surrounding neighborhoods and was the one nearest to Hope's Peak.

Coupled with a company dorm, the office building was a perfect place for any of your classmates to stay in.

Parking your van in the back of the building, you eagerly got out and stretched, tired from the long trip. Mikan followed, wobbling out of the passenger seat with shaky legs. A wave of relief washed over her expression as she was once again on solid, unmoving ground.

Hiyoko was the next to leave, quickly pushing open the door and stumbling out. Her expression was green and she landed uneasily on her feet, something that didn't often happen as the Ultimate Traditional Dancer. 

You grinned at them. "Don't forget to give me five stars, you guys!" you exclaimed jokingly. Hiyoko gave you a harsh glare, snapping out of her motion sickness to give you a few choice words.

"You dumbass! You said that you could drive! What the hell was that?!" she screamed out, however her voice faltered as suppressed the urge to vomit. "Do you think you’re some hot shit racer, breaking the speed limit and playing _World Is Mine_?!"

You pouted, arms crossed your chest in a childish gesture of defensiveness. "But, we _lived_."

Mikan was the next to speak, weak voice shaking as her hands clenched tightly into fists. "Th-That's not the problem! Forgive me for saying this, bu-but your driving is horrible! I-I-I'm having he-heart palpitations! You could even ki-kill someone like that!"

You peeked into the back, eyes narrowing. "Oof, speaking of death, I think Ibuki died. She's making bubbles," you inform blandly, pointing at the window. Opening the door, you saw a limp Ibuki in the backseat, foaming at the mouth.

"Blub blub blub!"

"Hyaaaah!" Mikan screamed, almost shoving you out of the way. "I-Ibuki is going through cardiac arrest! We have to get her to the nursing station right away!"

With the strength and urgency of a true medical professional, she tucked Ibuki under her arm and lifted her from the car. Mikan's head snapped towards you, eyes wild. "You help too!" Before you can reply, she dragged you by the arm, forcing you to cradle Ibuki and drag you into the building.

* * *

The office building was divided into four floors, each room renovated to your classmates' tastes in order to practice their talents and housed enough weapons to fuel a small army. Then at the bottom was a basement, which was the creepiest room in the entire building. When you visited the basement the other day, it was renovated into a nice little torture chamber. 

The first floor had a medical room and was outfitted to have the same capabilities as a hospital. Tucking Ibuki into bed after Mikan's medical treatment, you sighed to yourself. "Is there anything you want me to do, Mikan?" you inquire her Like a dutiful health professional, Mikan was adjusting Ibuki's body underneath the covers and checked her pulse (was Ibuki dying? Or did her heart rate not come down yet?). Mikan shook head.

"N-No…I would like to gr-greet ever-everyone again. B-But, Ibuki's condition co-comes first."

You gave her a two-fingered salute. "Roger. I think Hiyoko went to the dining hall…or the bathroom. She looked a little green," you mentioned, remembering how the Dancer rushed towards the women's bathroom. A flash of worry crossed Mikan's face.

"Th-Then, I should go get her…! Ca-Can you please get Hiyoko for me? I can't leave a patient!"

Despite not wanting to, you knew that Mikan's duty as a nurse wasn't going to let you reject her request. "Fine," you yielded to her. "I'll be back in a few."

Leaving the room, you go down the hall and see the sign for the bathroom, situated just behind the office next to the medical bay. Steps quickening, you approach the bathroom, about to enter before you stopped short of colliding with someone.

"Ouch! Watch where you’re going, you clumsy pig-shit!"

That insult. It was definitely Hiyoko.

Easily brushing off the insult, you gave her a small smile. You couldn't run the risk of inhaling Hiyoko's scent, no longer flowery and sweet, now smelled like vomit. "Mikan wants to see you in the medical room. You looked sick when you left the van, so she just wants to make sure you're okay," you explained to Hiyoko, wanting Mikan's task over and done with. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

Irises flaring red, Hiyoko grinned like a child. "Wow! Mikan is _soooo_ cool and caring…What a wonderful nurse. I'll see her right away!"

With that, you watched as the blonde nearly skipped all the way down the hall to the medical bay.

Once alone, you sighed, wandering through the hall to find Fuyuhiko and discuss Junko's funeral with him. Though, you knew what Fuyuhiko and Sonia were planning, there were the still mundane details you needed to iron out first. Where to hold her funeral and where you were going to bury her. _If_ Junko was going to be buried. You couldn't imagine the True Ultimate Despair being satisfied with just being stuffed into a hole in the ground.

All Fuyuhiko said that he wanted to make Junko's funeral so despair-inducing that it crushed whatever hope sprouted from their leader's death. It was open for interpretation and the possibilities were endless, especially for Ultimate Despair.

"Ah, there you are," a familiar friendly voice called out from behind you. Nagito was waving at you, wearing the same sickening smile as always. He was paler and skinnier the last time you saw him, collarbones jutting out from his red and green shirt. Nagito still retained the same overly-friendly demeanor, the same habits of self-deprecation. He was the same as ever.

Nagito was completely _hopeless_.

You grinned back, smile dripping with forced politeness. No matter how much you strained yourself to be civil, you didn't dare let it show. "Hiii, Nagito! Long time no see!" you cheerfully greeted him, rushing over to the Ultimate Lucky Student. "How are you? Howareyou?"

It was hard to play the role of a fellow comrade-in-arm. Over the years, your relationship with the Luckster was complicated. You didn't understand him, you didn't trust him, you couldn't predict him. You had no idea what he thought of you, either. Yet, you didn't hate Nagito for it. You just had to be careful with him at times.

Maybe your relationship with Nagito was based on the inability to understand him. Yet you somehow cared enough to try.

Nagito instinctively took a step back as you invaded his personal space. Despite being shorter than him, you managed to cut an intimidating figure with that unnerving friendly smile and your sickly sweet greeting towards him. He knew with absolutely certainty that if he let his guard down—well, you were in a secret base for Ultimate Despair. The possibilities were limitless.

He forced out a chuckle, maintaining his usual composure. "Good. Or rather, as good as I can be in these times," Nagito replies to you with a sigh and crossed arms. _As if he didn't have anything to do with The Tragedy._ "I missed my chance to greet you when you first arrived here. And I wanted to be one of the first to know of the funeral arrangements…But, even Fuyuhiko is keeping it under wraps."

You smiled, placing your index finger in front of your lips. "It's a secret! Only me, Sonia, and Fuyuhiko know. Think of it like...” Trailing off, you briefly thought of what you would allude to. Almost immediately, you finished, hands flourishing in the air like a flower. “A birthday surprise."

"A…birthday surprise?"

"Yeah! The anticipation is 75% of what makes birthday surprises great. The other 25% is actually getting the gift. So, think of it like that. You can pull out my nails and I won't tell! I'm not a party-pooper!"

Were you saying that…the gift wasn't good?

Before Nagito can say anything else, you immediately take control of the situation. If you learned anything from your days with Nagito, it was better to get in control, take away whatever power he had and take it for yourself. And with the discussion in your hands, you were quick to shift it in your desired direction. An idea popped in your head and feeling a little mischievous, you decided to put your plan in action.

"Who cares about that, though? I'm just saying nonsense," you admit to him with a lop-sided grin. "What'd you think of the last class trial? To think that Makoto, another Ultimate Lucky Student, defeated Junko…"

Just as expected, Nagito's ever-present smile dropped into a frown of annoyance and disgust. Even in their days during Hope's Peak, Nagito was never fond of Makoto, often turning disdainful whenever the younger student was brought up.

You had figured it was due to their talents as Lucky Students yet you felt that it was more than that.

An expression of arrogance formed, strange and foreign on the usually smiling Nagito. "It was unexpected, I admit, for another Lucky Student to beat Junko…" Nagito admitted with gritted teeth and clenched fist, which shook. Then, his eyes turned up towards the ceiling with a dazed expression of worship. It was the same gaze he held for Junko, his eyes a mix of hope and despair, something that didn't quite blend together to create something dark and unrecognizable.

"He's shed his title as the Ultimate Lucky Student and became the hope that the world was waiting for! …I couldn't be more proud to be of my underclassman!" Nagito wiped a tear from the corner of his eyes.

You gripped your bag tighter, suppressing a shudder. No matter how many times you saw it, when Nagito got like _that_ it made you quite nervous.

' _You hated his ass when we were in Hope's Peak, though_ ,' you recalled.

Again, you couldn't grasp Nagito. Contradictory to the very end, but you did have an inkling of understanding. His ideas of misguided hope and his emotions towards luck mingled together into something incomprehensible you didn't want to think about.

Maybe not understanding Nagito was the charm in your friendship with him.

But, that was a matter for another time. For now, you had a funeral to plan out.

"Anyways, we can talk more about Junko during her funeral," you say to him, reigning the conversation in. "Do you know where Fuyuhiko is?" Nagito blinked, taken aback from your sudden change of subject. The pieces clicked in the place, the flow of conversation, the direction it took, the shifts in topics.

He was caught up in your pace…again.

If there was one thing you got better at, it was knowing how to make people tick. It was especially true with your classmates.

"Oh, I believe he's in the basement with Peko," Nagito answered you. If you weren't going to answer his original question, then it couldn't be helped. Besides, he would find out when the others arrived in a few days. "While salvaging Junko's body, Fuyuhiko ran into a team of Future Foundation agents. And…" 

"He and Peko are torturing the survivors, got it." Fuyuhiko plus Future Foundation agents was a big enough clue to what he was doing at the moment. Nagito gave you an affirming nod.

You sighed. "Torture during a funeral? How despair-inducingly distasteful." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://erinin.tumblr.com/


	2. The Remnants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: graphic descriptions of violence

If you were going to die, a creepy, dark, and musty basement was where you expected it to be.

The basement of the office building had winding halls that you could easily get lost in. Every brick wall looked the same but you headed for the direction of the screaming. Sturdy pillars supported the building and the ceiling was covered with pipes, which provided the building its hot water. The basement level was dense, thick with dust and old, musty air, making it difficult to breathe. With its low ceilings and the oppressive atmosphere of death, this office basement was a perfect setting for a yakuza like Fuyuhiko to do his dirty work.

"AAAAaaaaughhhh…"

A agonized groan rang in your ears, low and heavy despite its feebleness. ' _Just follow the moans of pain, I guess_ ,' you mused, footsteps quickening down the bleak hallway. As you came closer to your destination, the scent of blood, rot, and death heightened. The screams of pain were your breadcrumbs, leading you to the end of your journey.

Taking a right down the hall, you found yourself in a large and desolate room, one end of the wall decorated with various and sharp… _tools_ that called to you with a siren call. 

Even in the dim fluorescent light, you could see the tall and stark silhouettes of your peers.

Fuyuhiko narrowed his eyes at you from underneath his fedora, a halo of shadow that seemed to swallow up the artificial light from above.

"What the fuck do you want? Can't you see I'm busy here?" he snarled, fingers curled around a pair of bloody pliers.

Despite Fuyuhiko's small stature, what he lacked in height, he made up for brutality and influence. As his Ultimate title suggested, Fuyuhiko was dressed in a thick black overcoat and scarf, crime and business going hand in hand. 

Besides him, Peko glared at you, her red eyes flaring dangerously. Her gaze was deadly, poised to strike at a moment's notice. She sheathed her sword, turning away from the Future Foundation agent that she was preying on.

"If this is about Junko Enoshima's funeral, that can wait for the time being. This won't take long," Peko curtly says to you. As always Peko Pekoyama was all work and no play.

In another life, maybe you would have dated Peko. Your classmate grew into a handsome woman, wearing a white suit speckled with flecks of blood. Peko was sharper, deadlier—a sword glinting in the darkness. Her time as Ultimate Despair only made her more intimidating, no longer hiding her blade in her bamboo sword. But, instead she proudly displayed her lethality at Fuyuhiko's side. She still retained the same silent intensity as she did in Hope's Peak, a flame that sparked into wildfire in an instant.

"I know that," you replied, just as abrupt. "But, we're planning a _funeral_. A torture party can wait." 

The Yakuza scowled, inching nearer. You didn't trust Fuyuhiko when he had _that_ look and a pair of pliers in his hands. "No, it _can't_ ," he emphasized between clenched teeth. "These fuckers nearly blew up her body in the crossfire. This is the least of what they deserve. He flashed a look towards their victims. _"_ No _goddamn_ consideration for the dead."

You blinked as if fully registering the Future Foundation agents. Maybe tortured humans should have caught your attention first when you entered the room, but why would they? The agents were just mob characters in the grand scheme of things and you weren't fond of getting to know nobodies.

The two agents, a female on the left and a male on the right, were… _torn apart_. Those were the only words you could use to describe the pair.

The woman's features obscured in the shadows and blood. Trails of tears shined in the dark, salty in the air as you approached. Upon closer examination, you can see her right eye was swollen shut. The female's back was exposed and you could smell gore and exposed flesh, ugly red scars decorating her pale flesh. On the table, you could see a cat o' nine tails, gleaming with a sanguine glow. Hearing her shallow breathing, you inspected her closer and saw that there were a few stab wounds in non-fatal areas.

A gurgling sound echoed through the stagnant air. It came from one of the agents, the one on the right. In the dim light, you could see that his uniform was torn to pieces, blood seeping from the wounds, turning the dark suit even darker. His hand was spread on the wooden table, a gaping hole on the back of his hand. Next to the agent's hand were a pair of fingers, the middle and index, which you guessed was from the Yakuza. Blood, tears, and salvia dribbled down the agent's chin, mouth moving despite the pain.

"W-Why…would you," he hacked, blood leaving the corner of his lips. "…would you hold a funeral…fo-for a…monster like Junk-ko?"

A prickle of irritation shot through you, causing you to give an aimless smile at him. Or was it a sneer? Your emotions towards Junko were conflicting and it showed. You hate _love_ her. Junko Enoshima is your one and only muse, the person who transformed the entire world into a playground of anarchy and violence. How could you _not_ look up to her?

You give him an aimless smile, leaning in close, tone turning mockingly cheerful as if explaining something complex to a child. "You side characters might not get it, but Junko was the one who made this world worth living in," you defended with a fierce and loyal gaze. "Even if she's a monster, she liberated everyone from boring and disappointing hope. Don't you think we owe her a proper burial for all she's done?"

**He spat in your face.**

A rush of air, the faint gleam of a sword against flesh.

"You must be very courageous," she growled, voice low with killing intent, titling her sword closer to his throat. "Or very _stupid_ to spit in her face."

You cackled, a sound so thoroughly unpleasant and malicious that it made everyone's teeth ache. Your empty smile was still present as you wiped his _blood and spit_ off your cheek with a quick motion. When the agent spat at you, you didn't flinch, showing no reaction to his deed. Somehow, that was even more terrifying.

"No, no, Peko," you placate her. "I got this." Peko took a quick glance at you before slowly withdrawing her sword and stepping back.

"Very well. Do what you will."

You turned towards Fuyuhiko, face still serene. However, he knew you long enough to know that you were faking. Underneath that peaceful, playful expression, you were raging, a storm ready to let your fury rain down on the unfortunate agent.

"Fuyuhiko, give me the pliers," you said, hand outstretched. You spoke so plainly that it left the Yakuza briefly surprised.

"…Sure."

Handing you the tool, you experimentally open and close the pliers. Satisfied with how well they worked, your smile widened, becoming more malicious, more bloodthirsty, more twisted, more _everything_. 

"Say goodbye to all your nails!" you sing-songed, putting the jaws of the pliers underneath the nail of the hand on the table.

His expression morphed in shock then horror, question of what you were about to do almost leaving his bloodied mouth. The words were on the tip of his tongue, almost leaving into the air before you clasped the jaws underneath and yanked _violently, forcefully, intensely, mercilessly_. All at once, like the Big Bang, a galaxy of pain was born, ripping at his core, flaring with such intensity, he thought he might get burnt out.

He howled, an animalistic and primal scream that reverberated in the air, body trembling from the shock and pain you inflicted. Besides him his female companion started whimpering, head dropping before she started sobbing softly.

The universe born from your act quieted down as hot, burning, electrifying pain traveled up his hand, arm, and spread through his body in unrelenting crashing waves. 

The open air burned at the bed of exposed nerves, his screaming tampering down to a pathetic whine. "Nghhhhh…" he groaned in agony, causing you to chuckle.

Fuyuhiko and Peko watched with interest, awaiting your reaction. Despite your talent lacking in lethality, you were no doubt as horrible and savage as your peers. Fuyuhiko knew firsthand that no matter how much jokes you made, no matter how light-hearted you pretended to be, you were just as twisted as himself.

"Don't cry now!" you sneered. "You still got nine more—" You looked at the fingers on the table. "Whoops, my bad! _Seven_ more nails for me to rip out. Ahahahahaha!" You cackled, the noise increasing in pitch so harshly, it felt like _your_ nails were being torn out.

Teasingly, you leaned over the table as if daring him to spit in your face again. He didn't.

"That's a nice shade of despair on you," you crooned in admiration, savoring your handiwork. "But, I know you can do better than that! It doesn't get my creative juices flowing at all!"

He screamed, the sounds bouncing off the brick walls with reverberations that rattled your bones. Waving at the pliers in his face, the agent saw his second nail in its jaws, blood and tissue still underneath the delicate surface. His fingers twitched from shock and pain, almost enough to make him black out, but not enough.

Because you weren't done yet. Because you weren't done yet. Because you weren't done yet. Because you weren't done yet. 

Fuyuhiko watched as you took the pliers, getting under the third nail, clenching it. Even Peko seemed to get out on it, watching intently, lips pulled into a gnarled grin, red eyes seeming to glow at your violence. Peko licked the corner of her lip, fingers tightening on the pommel of her sword as if to restrain herself.

The Yakuza could barely restrain himself, either, grinning widely as his eyes flashed red.

* * *

"Wow, how refreshing!"

Leaving the dank and dirty basement, you stretched your arms over your head, joints popping. "Thanks for letting me in, Fuyuhiko," you beamed, wiping away stray flecks of blood from your cheek. "I know how possessive you get when it comes to torture."

He smirked, "No problem. After what that guy did, I'm surprised you let him off with just ripping out his nails. I thought you would have done a lot of worse."

"Who said I wasn't?"

Peko turned towards you, closing the door to the basement once the both of you left. "Oh? Are you going to kill him once we let our guard down?" she asked you testily.

' _Wow, Peko's grown more rebellious the last time I saw her_ ,' you mused. In the past, she's never disobeyed any of Junko's orders nor ones from your fellow Remnants. But, you took the Swordswoman's growth as a sign of Junko's influence. Peko's glare hardened, making you realize that you have yet to answer her question.

You laughed, trying to dispel the tense mood. "Not at all," you waved off. "I was actually going to ask Peko if she can get Mikan from the medical bay to fix them up."

Fuyhiko raised a brow at that, black shoes tapping against the tiled stairs that lead to the surface. "Why's that?"

You grinned happily. "Since it's been a long since so many of us got together, I was thinkin' of having a torture party later!" you cheerfully said, obvious that you still wanted to get back at the agent that spat at you

You were never the person to say such depraved things so casually, but it seemed that even The Tragedy left its mark on you. Time as a member of Ultimate Despair must have worn you down, Fuyuhiko thought. He couldn't see the cheerful classmate he once knew.

Well, none of them were the same.

At your suggestion, Fuyuhiko grinned, white teeth a harsh contrast from the shadows on his face. "Heh, you have some good ideas sometimes, [name]." He turned towards Peko. "Peko, can you help Mikan with those Future Foundation morons? Me and her have some business to take care of."

Peko nodded sagely, "Very well. I'll leave the funeral preparations to you."

The Swordswoman left, leaving you and Fuyuhiko on the entrance hall of the first floor. Once Peko disappeared into the hall leading to the medical bay, Fuyuhiko indicated towards the elevator with a tilt of his head. "Let's talk at the president's office on the top floor," he said.

"Right-o, boss!"

* * *

With Fuyuhiko sitting at the head of the office, hands entwined together as he stared down at you. On both sides of the desk, a pair of men wearing Monokuma helmets, complete with black suits and dark fedoras. In their hands, they held heavy automatic guns, ready to fire. Sharing the room was a quartet of Monokuma robots, standing upright and wearing fedoras. They were stock still, but you knew how fast they moved, how fast they were to kill.

Despite the intimidating figure that Fuyuhiko cut with his forces, you were very impressed.

Fuyuhiko really embraced the yakuza lifestyle. Junko would be really proud of him.

You take a seat at one of the smaller chairs placed in front of Fuyuhiko's desk. "So, one of my first questions is what kind of condition is Junko's body? I thought she got…you know _crushed_ ," you said, hands clapping together softly to indicate the compactor in her execution. Fuyuhiko leaned into his seat, taking off his fedora as a sign of respect towards their deceased leader. 

You felt the same way, however you wanted to make Junko's funeral as professional and proper as possible. The admiration for the True Ultimate Despair overshadowed your hate for, so you wished for this entire affair to go along swimmingly. Even so, a normal, boring funeral wasn't what Junko or the other Remnants would have wanted.

When Fuyuhiko contacted you about the funeral, you nearly went mad from excitement.

"You know how that fucking Makoto Naegi bastard escaped _his_ execution when the floor opened?" he asked rhetorically, teeth clenched. "Well, it opened up during Junko's education and the blood spatter was from her landing in the basement." His hands fell away, landing on the desk as they clenched together, trembling from the anger that boiled inside of him. "God, it pisses me off she had such a similar execution to that Hope motherfucker."

"…That's pretty ironic to have something so similar to that Makoto guy," you admitted, recalling the grim memory of seeing your beloved muse crushed into a puddle of flesh and blood. It was despair-inducing that the objection of admiration, what you only wished to be, was killed and disposed of like trash.

Feeling your cheek twitch in rising anger, you hastily grabbed a hold of yourself and got back to Fuyuhiko. "And then, you and the others transported her in a portable freezer unit that Kazuichi built? So, where'd you store the body?"

He titled his head, a single golden eye staring back at you. "She was in the basement."

You shot up from your seat, expression turned white from shock. "She was nearby?! That means I could have seen Junko before we—"

Raising his hand, Fuyuhiko cuts you off. "Then, you would have been distracted. And, no doubt, would have blabbed about it to the others. And just like that, it would have ruined the surprise we've got planned," he lectured.

You crossed your arms together, pouting childishly. "You don't know that."

He rolled s eyes at you, "Anyways, there's a rooftop greenhouse and garden. It's large enough for all of us and some Monokuma soldiers. All the plants and shit are still alive, so it looks nice enough." You smirked.

"Whoa, there. Is the big bad Yakuza showing some respect towards the dead? That's a first," you teased, causing Fuyuhiko to scowl. He was quite used to your taunting jokes, meant to irritate others into giving you the reaction you wanted to see. It was trial and error, but Fuyuhiko learned how to ignore your provocations. And it seemed that you avoided pushing any serious topics on him, at least.

He scoffed, "You're the last person I want to hear that from. Using dead bodies as props for your propaganda films? Don't come cryin' to me when you get some strange disease."

"Hey!" you protested. "I sanitize them!" 

The man rolled his eyes at you. "Anyways, the rooftop greenhouse, got it? Get some of your Monokuma soldiers to help you. And there's always Nekomaru and Akane."

"Roger," you answered. "Also considering what to do with the body, are you going to do? Bury it?" The thought of just burying Junko Enoshima made you snort in amusement. It was so anticlimactic, so boring, so utterly _lame_ , you didn't think that Sonia nor Fuyuhiko considered it.

The Yakuza scowled, leaning into the chair as he attempted to wave you away. "Tch, I dunno!" he snapped, hands in the air in exasperation at your incessant inquiries. "Just stop asking so many questions and get to work!" he ridiculed, anger rising.

"All these inquiries _are_ for the job!"

His eyes narrowed into daggers. 

"Stop fuckin' lying," Fuyuhiko accused, voice lowering into a disquieting tone. It barely concealed his growing rage at you, his patience wearing thin like a thread about to snap. "You're too curious for your own good." He paused before flashing a dark smile at you, sending a shiver down your spine. 

"As they say, 'Curiosity killed the cat'."

You remained unperturbed by the implied death threat, knowing that as long as you were needed Fuyuhiko wouldn't do it. You weren't even scared when his soldiers stiffened, tightening their hands around the weapons, poised to attack. Even so, you were only just the slightest bit amused by his words.

Smirking you decided to change the topic of the conversation, trying to dispel how close you were about to be murdered. "Don't hold it against me!" you chuckled, attempting to diffuse the situation. "It's my nature as a director to know everything about my set."

The tension was thick, threatening to choke you from the inside out. It was a battle of wills between you and Fuyuhiko with either your fingers or life on the line. Holding you ground, you stood firm despite how his men eyed you with ill-disguised killing intent. Then as if no longer interested, Fuyuhiko gave an exasperated sigh and leaned back into his chair, putting his feet up on the desk.

You were right, if he was going to leave the funeral preparation to you, you needed as much information as possible. Besides, Fuyuhiko wasn't _that_ annoyed with you. Yet.

"For the time being, all you need to know is where the funeral is gonna be held and what we're going to do. Just set everything up, so the whole world can watch."

"Not the DIY amputation, right? You're talking about our declaration of war?"

" _Not the DIY amputation_ , no," Fuyuhiko said to you through gritted teeth, face reddening in anger. The irritation he felt seemed to grow, radiating from him in waves.

Despite this, you gave the Yakuza a bright grin. "Alright, then. We don't want to bore the audience with 10 hours of _that_ , huh? Just a few more questions and I'll get the funeral prep started by tomorrow."

He sighed in exasperation, eyes narrowed. "… _Fine_ , just hurry the fuck up already. I got better things to do."

"Is Izuru coming here, too?"

Fuyuhiko's lips pulled into a tight frown, the mere mention of Junko's closest subordinate bringing a deep ache. Most of your peers didn't care for Izuru due to his— _Unsettling? Boring? Cryptic?_ —personality. Holding the title of Ultimate Hope also didn't settle well with the others. Despite his status as an outsider, Izuru seemed to understand Junko the most. He didn't see her as an idol like everyone else. How Izuru viewed Junko was a mystery to you, but it seemed to ensure his loyalty towards Ultimate Despair.

"Do you think a guy like that would attend her funeral?" he rhetorically asked you, tone a mix of biting sarcasm and irritation.

"Good point." You pause for a moment before remembering someone else you wanted to ask about.

"Then, how about Mukuro's body? She was part of Ultimate Despair, too. I know everyone doesn't care about her, but like you said— _have some consideration for the dead_ ," you said, parroting Fuyuhiko's words from before.

He laughed, whole and hearty yet it was a sound that peeled the skin from your bones. It was a long and hard cackle, something that came from the depths of his soul that seemed to last forever. You should have expected this reaction. With Junko's treatment of the Ultimate Soldier, it didn't surprise you that the others didn't think much of her. In fact, Mukuro barely registered on _your_ radar.

Once Fuyuhiko was done laughing, his expression turned stony and serious, his fedora casting a dark shadow over his features. "Who cares about her? Mukuro might still be in Hope's Peak or maybe the Future Foundation took her body just like the others from the 78th class. No one gives a shit." 

"I see," you sighed. Pausing to think if you had more questions, you could find nothing else to ask. Besides, you had the feeling that if you were if you were going to ask Fuyuhiko more questions, he was going to have his men shoot you in the kneecaps or something. "Well, I’ll start the funeral prep right away. For now, I need to go into the dining hall."

Placing your hands on your stomach, you aimed a dismayed and mocking expression. "I didn't get to eat the entire day and I'm dying for some award-winning Tertuteru Hanamura dinner!" you chirped eagerly. Fuyuhiko gave a heavy scowl.

"Do whatever you want, just give me a detailed draft of your plan by tonight. If you don’t, I swear to God, you're going to be missing a few fingers when you wake up!"

"Oh relax, Scarface Jr," you mocked. "If anything, I'm a punctual person."

* * *

The cafeteria area was located on the first floor of the office building, similar to one in Hope's Peak Academy. It was a shabby place, but with a few touch ups the dining hall was ready. Attached to the cafeteria was a catering kitchen, which was where Teruteru spent most of his time the last time you saw him. Even then, he refused to use the kitchen until it was outfitted to his high standards. As a result, you never had the opportunity to taste any of the Chef's dishes before picking up Mikan and the others.

Entering the dining hall with its royal blue wallpaper, small round tables dotted the room for those that wanted to dine alone and dirty glass windows effectively blocked the outside world. In the center, there was a long rectangular table where most of the other Remnants ate their meals.

"Hey, you're here!"

A boisterous voice called over to you, waving from the right side of the long table. Kazuichi Soda had a plate of mutton curry and rice in front him, steam rising from the delicious dish. Nekomaru was seated next to him, high face lighting up as he spied you from the entrance of the dining hall. Across from two, Akane watched in hungry anticipation when they ate, a line of drool leaving her lips. Alert, Akane turned towards your entrance as you returned a wave towards the others.

"Yo, what took ya so long?" she asked you, her tone as rough and friendly as ever. "I thought for sure that you got captured by the Future Foundation or something."

You made a face at that comment. "What? Why?"

She shrugged, "Dunno! Lately, those guys have been really rowdy since Junko died." Akane's face tightened into a deep scowl, teeth bared. "It really pisses me off…"

The years had not been kind to Akane Owari.

She still retained the same ferocious aura, an overwhelming strength that didn't match her physical appearance. No longer the mass of muscle that radiated confidence and power, Akane looked more like a skeleton than the classmate you once knew. Clad in a dark tube-top and shorts, you could see the bones of her ribs, torso nearly collapsing in on itself as Akane's body ate away at her own muscles. Despite starving herself, she somehow held onto that same intensity from your academy days and was still as strong as ever, too. Albeit not for long periods of time.

You take a seat next to her, facing Kazuichi and Nekomaru on the opposite end of the table.

"Well, I didn't," you say to her. "Kazuichi's GPS was faulty."

"No, it wasn't!" the Mechanic protested with tears in his eyes and pointing an accusatory figure at you. 

In return, you gave the male a wide smug grin, eyes narrowed playfully. “Bet,” you challenged. 

"I _bet_ it was your terrible driving that caused the delays!" 

' _He got me there_ ,' you admitted to yourself, smug smirk melting away. "Whatever! I got here safely with the others. That's that."

"You're right," Nekomaru said. "I can't believe you drove through the city just to get them. Even if we're all apart, you still pull through for your teammates." The Coach nodded in appreciation at your actions, a deep smile set on his features. Even if he was Ultimate Despair, the Coach's dedication to his 'athletes' never wavered nor changed.

Or maybe it did.

Afterall, _Nekomaru_ was the one that let Akane waste away to skin and bones.

Kazuichi groaned, the mental image of you behind the wheel, driving through wastelands for hours was enough to make him dizzy. "Then, what happened to Mikan, Ibuki, and Hiyoko?" he inquired timidly. Worst case scenario, they were in a coma. Best case scenario, the three girls were just sick.

"Ibuki went into cardiac arrest and Hiyoko got really sick, so Mikan had to nurse them!" you exclaimed to him matter-of-factly. "On the bright side, no deaths!"

"That’s not the problem…"

"Well my 'bad driving' aside," you dismissed with air quotes. "How's everyone doing these days?" You grinned at Kazuichi, remembering something nice that happened recently. Giving a waggle of your eyebrows, you said, "I heard about what happened in Shinjuku! Man, all those people lined up just to get shot to death. I loved that big-ass execution machine, by the way."

The Mechanic blushed at your praise, black gloved hands shyly rubbing the back of his head. "Awww, thanks I just had a stroke of inspiration. You know, I took inspiration from that Leon dude's execution. But, instead of baseballs, it shot cannon balls! It was like if machine guns and a pitching machine had a baby."

"Ha!" Akane crudely laughed. "You call that despair-inducing?! Me and Peko took out an entire platoon of Future Foundation agents! The entire 9th Division was almost wiped out, it would have been great if I beat up that kunai guy."

"Hmph," Nekomaru grunted with crossed arms, a glint of a challenge in his dark eyes. "And what stopped you then, Akane? Hunger pains?"

Her lips pulled back to show off sharp teeth, falling for Nekomaru's provocation. "What the hell are ya sayin'?! No way some hunger pains are gonna stop me! Those guys played dirty and placed car bombs, so I couldn't beat 'em up!"

"Car bombs, huh?" Nekomaru muttered before smirking. "Well, my team would have handled that perfectly. They're a perfect blend of utilizing the Monokuma helmets and NEKOMARU NIDAI's great training regimes!" He leaned back in his chair in satisfaction, reminiscing about his personal athletes back in his own base. "You should have seen them spreading despair in Nagoya, those guys had so much fun. There wasn't a single survivor in that neighborhood! Hahaha!"

The Coach guffawed, the sound rumbling his chest emphasized by the red lightning that seemed to spark from his eyes. Kazuichi screamed, scooting away in his seat. "Give me a warning when you do something like that!" he scolded him. "I can never get used to your lightning!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Nekomaru loudly said. "So, how about you, [name]? What's your biggest achievement?"

You leaned back, trying to dig through your haze of memories about anything notable. Death and violence had become so engraved into your daily life that you were almost bored of it. Keyword being almost. Even so, nothing could top what you did to your family. But, you weren't' going to tell your peers the details—it was too personal, too close to your own heart.

It was a despair meant only for you and Hikaru.

Giving your classmates an empty smile, you said, "Well, me and Teruteru infiltrated one of the largest neighborhoods in Tokyo. He poisoned the food rations from the Future Foundation while me and my crew just stirred up some trouble on the inside." Your smile turned wider, more malicious as you began to recall the vivid details with ecstasy. The fires, the fighting, the killing, the destruction you personally caused was enough sent a shiver down your spine.

"We basically messed with their supplies and spread a few lies. Really, the process was boring, but the end result was…" you trailed off, giving a mocking chef's kiss with your fingers. " _Just despair-inducing_. If Junko saw it, do you think she would be impressed?" 

You felt your cheeks flush when you thought of Junko possibly being proud of you, a wave of despair and pleasure mingled together crashing over you, warming you from the core. 

"It was basically a Lord of Flies situation for two weeks until the Future Foundation intervened," you breathed out, face flushed and eyes unfocused on your current reality, lost in a haze of your of memories. "I caught that dumpster fire on tape and Teruteru had his fill of people, so all’s well that ends well!” 

"Uuughhhh," Kazuichi groaned with disgust. "Is that guy still doing the cannibalism thing? He ate his mom and who knows how many others. Doesn't he eat anything else?"

"Who knows?" you asked cheerfully, dismissing the question. Remembering the fun you had in Tokyo was enough to put you in a good mood. "Speaking of, Terureru invited Akane, the Imposter, and Mahiru for some dinner when the Tragedy was just starting. And the _mad lad_ actually fed them his mo—"

"Ahhhh!" Kazuichi interrupted you, hands covering his ears. "I don’t want to hear it! I don’t want to hear it! It's not even despair-inducing for me, it's just— _gross!_ "

At the distant memory, Akane spoke up, eyes gleaming with hunger, stomach growling in an unsettling manner. "Yeah! That meat was so tasty! I think it was one of the last things I ate before fasting," she stated and gave a toothy grin. "But, all ya really need is despair to live."

You laughed with your eyes flaring red, both at the memories of the past and of what was to come. "You got that right! Don't worry, Akane, we got a feast lined up for you! Hahaha!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://erinin.tumblr.com/


	3. The Moment

"And that concludes my report."

It was the early evening, the nights longer and darker as the cold weather began to settle in.

Fuyuhiko read your report with narrowed eyes, taking in the details you put down. Over his shoulder, Peko was reading it with the same intense stare as well. After a few moments of tense silence, Fuyuhiko gently placed the papers down. His gaze was cold, sharp, predatory. It was the type of gaze that belonged to a true Yakuza, weighing the cost and benefits to your plan.

"You know for a Director, I thought it would be more spontaneous or something," he spoke, leaning back into his chair. Despite Fuyuhiko's expectations, you didn't get upset at his words, which could have been easily taken as an insult. Rather, you gave the man a slow, agreeing shake of your head, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation.

"I know right," you sighed out. "As much as I'd like to hold a funeral worthy of Junko Ehoshima's name, it's just not possible not with our lack of resources. However, the funeral is just the prelude to all the despair we have planned afterwards." Again, you were right on that point. From what Fuyuhiko observed, the war between hope and despair was just beginning.

Ever since Junko died, riots and wars have been starting all over the world in her name. Seen as some martyr of despair, other Remnants gathered in her name to fight against the Future Foundation, this turnout only compared to the beginnings of The Tragedy. With this ceremony, the Yakuza was sure to see more.

Fuyuhiko sighed, yielding to your points, "Fine. This seems reasonable enough.” He turned his golden gaze towards Peko. "Me and you are gonna go get the guys to procure the goods for the funeral. Even with Monkuma helmets, some of those incompetents can't be trusted to even grab some wood."

"Going out for errands, then," Peko mused thoughtfully. "That sounds better than just staying here for the entire night."

You pouted at that, crossing your arms like an upset child. "Heeeeey, let me go, too! It's no fun when I just let the Monokumas just do all the work since they do it all perfectly. It really takes the fun out of bossing them around.” 

Fuyuhiko glared at you, irritation reaching its boiling point. Instantly, you shut up and gave a meager nod. You knew when to hold your tongue.

"Fine, I'll go talk to Kazuichi about the broadcast! Since you guys hate me so much, I'll stay!" you yielded with a whiny tone.

"Good. Tell—Actually _none of you_ are in charge. I'll be back in a few hours."

* * *

"Oh, man. Were you trying to listen in on the funeral arrangements, Nagito?"

Your friend was hoisted by the arms, thin legs hanging a few inches off the air. Despite the compromising position and the vice grip your men had on him, Nagito gave you a friendly smile and casually waved at you in greeting. He looked strangely at home with the two strong armed men, donning Monokuma helmets. Maybe it was a daily occurrence that Nagito was beaten, but you didn’t have the time to dwell on that.

"My curiosity got the best of me," he admitted to you with a light laugh. "Do you really not trust me? Sooner or later, everyone is going to know what you guys are planning.” 

Your lips pursed together in thought before replying. "It's not a matter of trust. It's a matter of precaution," you corrected. "I believe that as long as you fight for 'hope'." You put air quotes on the dreaded word, wishing that it would at least get a rise out of Nagito but to no avail. " You're willing to do or be anything. Even get in the way of Junko's funeral."

The scathing tone of your words didn't seem to make a mark on Nagito's armor, the same casual smile still on his face and placid aura intact.

Without a chink in his armor, you couldn't tell if you annoyed him or not. 

Sighing after receiving no reply from the Luckster, you ordered your men to release him. "Put the hopefucker down," you instructed, indicating your words with your hand. "And if you see Nagito Komaeda around while you're working, apprehend him and throw 'em out. Off the roof or down the stairs, either one works." There was a brief nod from your crew members, who immediately let go of Nagito before he landed on the ground.

Dusting himself off, you immediately gave your drafted plans to your men. "And here's the funeral arrangements. Work with Fuyuhiko's guys and get this thing done by tomorrow morning. I'll also send some Monokuma robots your way, so the set better be perfect," you ordered, eyes narrowing dangerously. "I don't feel like losing a few fingers."

The duo nodded, going up the stairs to the rooftop, Nagito's gaze following them 

He turned his attention onto you, admiration in his green eyes. "Amazing! As expected of the Ultimate Director, you really have a handle on your crew members. And your hindsight is definitely something to be envied," Nagito gushed, causing you to take an inch away.

"…Right," you muttered, not sure what to say to him. "Anyways, do you know where Kazuichi is? The last time I saw him, he was in the dining hall."

He placed his index finger and thumb underneath his chin, a gesture of thought. "When I ran into Kazuichi, he was heading to the 3rd floor to work on some projects he had in mind," Nagito explained. "Does your meeting with him have something to do with the funeral?"

You sneered. "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to. It wastes both my time and yours."

Once again, the Luckster ignored your scornful tone and remained silent, knowing that you just wanted to get a reaction from him.

"Ugh!" you groaned as Nagito remained smiling. "Has anyone told you how annoying you are? Really, I don't understand you at all…!"

Seeing such a normal action was almost refreshing, enough to cause the Luckster to laugh. "Hahaha, sorry. Don't be mad. You're not the first one to think that I'm an annoying insignificant bug, I'm actually quite used to it." Again, you groaned in frustration. You had always wondered what made Nagito tick, what made him truly angry. But, yet again you failed.

You briefly wondered what would happen if Nagito was really, really angry at you. 

"Yeah, yeah," you murmured, sarcastically before mimicking Nagito. "'I'm just trash', 'I'll be the stepping ladder for hope', blah, blah, blah! Jeez, you sound like a broken record."

"Apologies."

Rolling your eyes, you headed for the elevator to go down the 3rd floor. Nagito closely followed, finding that he had no business on this floor. "Do you mind if I go with you to Kazuichi's workshop? I'm terribly bored here by myself," he said to you, already entering the elevator before you answered. 

_'Same here, buddy.'_

"Fine. But, if I see you touching dangerous tools, mister, you’re going into the basement with the agents!"

* * *

The third and fourth floor of the building held a majority of the offices with a few large conference rooms here and there. It was in those rooms where some of your classmates had carved a place for themselves.

The office building was going to their home away from home, and even you settled in on the fourth floor to work in privacy. Kazuichi was no different, the third floor conference room was dimly lit with various Monokuma parts messily strewn about.

Cans of soda littered the floor, most empty yet there were a few tipped over that flowed a sticky sweet liquid. Tools of various kinds and small machines decorated the circular table in a chaotic fashion, the mind of a whimsical mechanic that went from one project to another. It was no different from your own work-space, paper and pen replaced with bolts and screw-drivers.

The Mechanic was occupied at the far end of the round table, screw-driver digging into a Monokuma helmet. 

At the sound of the door opening, Kazuichi looked up from the helmet, sharp teeth glinting in the faint light. They appeared predatory, truly the image that Kazuichi was aiming for when he re-made himself all those years ago. He finally looks dangerous, _is_ dangerous. His eyes no longer held the same bright glint from your school days, but were instead replaced with a fragmentary madness built on distrust and unrequited love.

"Oh? You and Nagito?" he inquired. "Even now, you two still stick together."

" _God_ , don't say it like that. You make it sound like I'm friends with Nagito."

"I wouldn’t even dream of being friends with an Ultimate!"

It felt like the more time you spent with Nagito, combined now with Kazuichi, your energy was draining fast. "Putting that aside," you started, trying to move the conversation forward. "Fuyuhiko told me that you need to send some of the Monokuma robots up to the roof to help with the funeral set up. And to hijack the airwaves, just like you did with the Killing Game."

A look of exasperation made its way onto his face as he groaned. "That takes a lot of work, y'know. It took me a good three months to set everything up," he explained, recalling the tedious progress. Capturing satellites and calculating the frequencies wasn’t something Kazuichi was keen on doing again. 

"Then, make a few calls to some of the Despair cells," you offered. "Most of them are idiots, but I know that there's a few capable people."

He paused, mulling over your words, "…I guess you're right. I'll get started on that right now." Kazuichi turned in his chair, reaching for a cellphone before you spoke up. 

"And have it done by the time _Sonia_ gets here."

It was like you dropped an atomic bomb in the room, rendering both the Mechanic and Luckster silent at your mention of the blonde princess. It wasn’t subtle, it wasn’t clever, it wasn’t sly. It was purposely dropped into the discussion, meant to get a rise out of Kazuichi. Both you and Nagito watched as the Mechanic’s posture stiffened at the mention of the Princess. You had a faint idea what Junko did to the man, but anytime Sonia was mentioned he just—

"Ugh, that _fake bottle blonde_ ," he cringed with disgust. "Can't believe she's making everyone wait. This funeral was gonna be like a party, but here she goes ruining everything again." Kazuichi sighed heavily, but you could spy the mad, dazed toothy grin, one of the ten tell-tale signs of how far into despair he was. A small smile of amusement formed on your lips, causing Nagito to glance.

' _She did that on purpose_ ,' he thought to himself, noting how you pulled a similar stunt with him a few hours ago.

Despite realizing what you did, Nagito kept quiet as you continued to speak.

"Yeah, can't believe Sonia has the _audacity_ to delay Junko's funeral," you mocked, words a complete lie to what you truly felt. "But, that leaves you more time to work, right? Weren't you making a Monokuma Helmet where the victims are actually conscious of what they're doing? Or that fun execution machine with the rocket?" You paused and scanned the room filled with machine parts. "Now that I think about it, you have a lot of projects, but you make no actual progress. What's the reason for that?"

"Same here," Nagito spoke up. He was genuinely curious how the Mechanic was able to mass-produce so much of the machinery that propelled the Tragedy. From the Monokuma robots to brainwashing helmets to the execution machines from the Killing Game. You didn't think Kazuichi had so much time if he scrapped so much machinery. "I don't underestimate your talent, Kazuichi. Just curious."

The Mechanic languidly leaned in his chair, entertaining your desire for conversation over the need for work. It was pretty easy to see which option was _much more fun_.

"Easy," Kazuichi answered with a yawn."As the Ultimate Mechanic, isn't it despairing when you waste materials and never accomplish anything you set out to do? I just made the blueprints for the helmets and stuff, but Junko used her connections to mass produce my inventions. Something about a big financial conglomerate."

You…could believe that. Junko was all about spreading despair, even if it meant throwing a wrench in her plans.

"Huh," Nagito mused. "What a… _horrible_ reason." He tightly clenched his fist, shaking from anger. "To think that an Ultimate has fallen so low that they even go against their talents. Even if hope wins in the end, this kind of despair still hurts to watch."

"Right, right," you rolled your eyes, recalling what kind of role Nagito played in his role as Ultimate Despair. Despite becoming despair, he always has and will fight for hope. Though, it was a twisted version of hope you've never encountered. Could it even be called hope in the first place?

You sighed, "I admire self-sabotaging yourself like this." Gesturing towards the torn and ruined machines, you continued. "But, I'm serious. Send some Monokuma bots up there and contact the cells to hijack the airwaves. Oh!"

Remembering a certain foundation, you gave the male a warning glare. "Make sure those Future Foundation assholes don't mess with the signal like the Killing Game broadcast. I got this entire funeral planned out from start to end and I don’t wanna see my work and planning go to waste!" Your bossy statement was emphasized by your hands on your hips, the image of the Ultimate Film Director.

Kazuichi sighed at you, the weight of your words causing him to slump in the office chair. "Things don't change," the Mechanic mused. "Even after everything, you two are still the same as ever."

" _Excuse me_? I'm a 10, Nagito is a—"

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Kazuichi interjected.

Nagito gave a light chuckle at your banter with the Mechanic. It was just like you to tease and mislead Kazuichi, malicious intentions or not. "He means," Nagito starts, "That despite you and I being Ultimate Despair, there are some aspects of us that didn't change."

You made a face, not knowing how to feel about Nagito being right about you.

"For example, you still possess the leadership and planning skills of a director," the Luckster praised. "And I still fight for hope no matter how deep and dark the despair is here."

Kazuichi, along with you, were rendered speechless with Nagito's contradictory stance. Even after all the years with him, neither of you could understand the Luckster. He remained even an enigma to the rest of your class. But, the mystery that was Nagito Komaeda would be saved for another time.

A hefty sigh left your lips. "Fine, whatever. I hate to admit it, but you're right for once, Kazuichi," you yielded, trying to get the conversation to drop. "On a much more _fun_ note, I cordially invite you, Kazuichi Soda and Nagito Komaeda to a super duper special torture party tomorrow night!"

The sudden shift in conversation threw Kazuichi off kilter, but went along with it anyways. "Right, I heard about it from Mikan." He shook his head slowly in mock disappointment. "Can't believe the guy spit in your face!" The Mechanic cackled, the sound a cross between a dying whine and a grating noise that grated your bones.

An expression of surprise formed on Nagito's face, "Really? To spit on the face of an Ultimate. Just who do they think they are?! That's completely unforgivable!" You couldn't tell if Nagito was mad because he spat in _your_ face or because he spat in an _Ultimate's_ face.

"It's fine," you said to them, hand instinctively going towards your cheek as if you felt the spit and blood trailing down your face. "I…got my payback." The memory of bloody nails and screaming and laughing made you smile, almost losing yourself in the misery you saw in the agents' eyes. To know that you caused such despair brought a grin to your face, to know that you caused such a spectacle was enough to send you into a fit of euphoria.

You caught a hold of yourself, almost losing yourself in a fit of despair. "A-Anyways," you exhaled, voice breathy from the tingle of pleasure you felt from the memory and sensation of pulling out that man's nails. "Since, I'm a _wonderfully considerate_ person, I decided to invite you guys. I believe that letting out your emotions is a healthy habit, especially in this time of loss."

It was such a laughable statement, so ridiculous that Kazuichi stifled a laugh.

"Pffft, nice one," he sarcastically quipped. "When was the last time _you_ displayed basic human empathy?"

Scowling, you crossed your arms. "Oh, shut up. You give me more of a headache than Nagito," you whined.

"Now, now," the Luckster said, trying to calm you down. "I'm sure he didn't mean anything by that. I can't possibly be on the same level as you…! I wouldn't even dream of it!

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you hissed through your teeth, "I cordially _unnvite_ you, Kazuichi Soda and Nagito Komaeda, to the torture party."

"What?!"

"I never agreed, though."

Waving them off, you barked out an order, "Just do your job, Kazuichi! If you want a chance to shine, then this is it! Maybe, you two will get an invite!"

The Mechanic's mouth went agape before tears appeared in his eyes. "Shut up! Shut up!" he whined. "I'll definitely work hard, so you better invite me later…"

* * *

Yawning as you left the office building accompanied by Nagito, the night air caused goosebumps on your flesh.

With your mind preoccupied by Junko's funeral, you hardly noticed Nagito walking besides you towards the dorms on the company grounds. His face was deep in thought, trying to replay the conversation you had with Kazuichi, the playful banter tinged with carefully placed words. He saw the way your eyes gleamed as the Mechanic went along with you, like an actor fulfilling the role he was unknowingly given.

He wondered what kind of high you must have felt watching the Mechanic go along so easily with your words.

' _Back then_ ,' Nagito thought, ' _She never would have done this. At least not on purpose._ ' The Luckster glanced at you and your eyes darted at him.

"What is it?" you inquired. 

"Nothing, I was just wondering…" Nagito trailed off, unable to complete his observation in the fear of offending you. You glared.

"Just say it already."

The Luckster gathered his thoughts, trying to find the right words to express his thoughts. "You're having a lot of fun with Kazuichi. Reminding him of Sonia and all…" You blinked before smirking at the memory of your earlier conversation.

"Yeah, I made it pretty obvious just to see how he would react," you chirped before sticking your finger in the air thoughtfully. "Yet, you didn't stop me, either. So, what does that say about you, Nagito?"

The Luckster stayed silent, not falling for your deflection before continuing his point. "This isn’t about me. If I can at least be clear about my stance on hope while becoming Ultimate Despair, then you can too. Instead of hiding around pleasantries and the façade of being friends, just make your intentions clear."

If there was one thing you hated, it was how easily you could be figured out by someone like Nagito. It made your skin crawl to have such an unsettling young man to call you out like it was nothing. Did he understand you more than you understood him? The thought of not knowing what to think about Nagito was terrifying. But, the thought of being laid bare by someone you couldn’t understand wasn’t even more terrifying.

You scowled in irritation, trying to hide your unease. "You're the last person I want to hear _that_ from."

Nagito gave you that signature carefree smile, the same one that he gave you in Hope's Peak. Kazuichi was right: some things don't change no matter how much time passes.

"No need to be mean," he appeased, hands raised defensively. "I was just really surprised. You've grown since the last time I saw you."

"And you're the same as ever," you shot back.

"Stop with the deflecting."

The both of you had stopped walking towards the dorm, feet now planted firmly on the ground. You briefly debated talking further with your classmate, however somewhere deep in your heart you enjoyed your conversations with the male. No matter how confusing, frustrating, and unsettling he could be. 

Even now, you felt that Nagito was that interesting character you met back in the academy.

Smirking, you answered him with as much as honesty as you could muster. "Okay, I admit. I might have been a little bored with The Tragedy as of late," you teased, shrugging your shoulders. "Junko's funeral and reuniting with everyone was the only thing I was actually looking forward to for these past few weeks."

"In order to spread despair to your friends, too," he finished, immediately understanding your true intentions. 

You stuck your tongue out playfully. "Don't say it like that. It just goes to show how precious you guys are to me. When you feel miserable, so do I. Isn't that the ultimate proof of how much you all mean to me? Also, dontcha think the Remnants of Despairs' despair is absolute gold?!" 

It was a paradoxical way of thinking, a twisted version of friendship that Junko implanted inside of you. Thriving off your friends' misery and causing your own all for the sake of entertainment appealed to your nature as a director yet there was something else that Nagito couldn't put his finger on. Another motive that drove your depravity

He couldn’t understand you yet he cared enough to at least try. 

Noting the Luckster's silent streak, you tilted your head. "What's going on in your head, Nagito?" you asked him with a slight smile. 

He shrugged, "It's nothing important. And it may be presumptuous to think like this, but we might be…"

"We might be?"

"More alike than I thought." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://erinin.tumblr.com/


	4. The Conference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: brief mention of suicide (nothing descriptive)

"Hello, Nurse ♥!" 

Upon leaving the dorms, Mikan was faced with your cheerfully greeting her. Surprised at your sudden appearance, the Nurse nearly backed up into her door as you approached.

"O-Oh, I'm sorry! I-I-I didn't see you there! G-Good morning!"

You smiled at Mikan's stutter, one of the many adorable qualities you found in the Nurse. But, even if she was still as attractive as ever, you knew she only had eyes for Junko. Besides, you didn't want to be the object of affections given how she idolized the True Ultimate Despair.

"No, no, it's okay," you chirped, hands raised defensively. "I just wanted to know about the Future Foundation agents. Are they in tip-top condition for the party anytime soon?"

Mikan's lips quivered yet you spied the blush forming on her cheeks. "W-Well, Fuyuhiko and Peko did an enormous amount of damage, suffering from heavy blood loss. The female agent was difficult to treat since Peko st-struck in ar-areas that blee-bleed a lot…"

She trailed off as her cheeks darkened to a rosy pink and Mikan released a heated exhale, something deathly close to a moan. You looked at her with interest, a smile growing wider on her lips as she continued to give you gory detail after gory detail.

Immediately, Mikan shook her head as if it to get rid of her arousal yet it was a poor attempt to do so. No matter how much she wanted to, it couldn't shake the pink off her cheeks. "T-The wounds from the whip were pretty severe that Peko dislocated her shoulders. The-Then, the a-agent blacked out as I was dis-disinfecting her wounds," Mikan exhaled, a line of drool leaving her lips. "U-Um…but I guess that was go-good since she stopped sc-screaming and moving around so much…"

"A-An-And…the agent that spit on you nearly died from shock while I was treating him. You and Fuyuhiko really did a number on him. Be-Between…" She let out a dreamy sigh, retreating into her memories of yesterday. Pleasure and despair mixed together in her eyes, which glowed an eerie shade of red.

" _The hand wounds and your nail ripping_ ," Mikan finished slowly, "He was much more resistant to my treatment."

She blinked before realizing her mistake and hastily corrected herself, "Ah, but don't worry! I applied one of my experimental sedatives! The one that makes you feel so good you pass out." 

"Haha, I expected as much," you joked, laughing. "Anyways, I'm sure you heard from someone, but I was planning out a little _party_." The last word slipped so easily from your mouth, dripping with a poisonous mocking sarcasm that it didn't take a genius to figure out what you were saying.

Mikan felt her pulse beat faster, the opportune time to prove her love towards Junko sprouting up right in front of her. What better way to show her loyalty and love to the True Ultimate Despair than harming those that stood in her way?

Spotting the darkening blush on Mikan's face, you grinned like the Cheshire Cat. However, rather than mischief, your smile was filled with nothing but malice.

"Yup!" you exclaimed to Mikan, quickly preparing your next moves. "Hm, it's like a pre-party for Junko's funeral. I wanted to honor her memory by spreading her despair far and wide. It would be grand if we gave it everything we got, right?"

Just as you expected, Mikan's eyes flared an ominous shade of red, only matching the heavy blush on her cheeks. "Y-Yes! Junko would want this, t-th-this is the on-only way to prove my love now that my Beloved is gone! Haha...Hahaha...Ahahaha!"

Your stomach dropped as Mikan began to giggle uncontrollably, knowing how you were the one that pushed into remembering Junko, into recalling that the one person who accepted, loved and forgave the Nurse was gone from this Earth. The despair of seeing Mikan fall into such a toxic love with Junko was too much, too sad, ftoo suffocating. But…

It.

Felt.

So.

Good.

Unable to stop yourself, you continued to rile up Mikan without pause, without mercy. "But, you know, Junko's memory doesn't have to die," you whispered to her. "As long as you keep causing despair, Mikan, _she'll stay with you always_." 

She looked at you with red eyes, a poisonous and crude mixture of love and despair. The Nurse began to pant, hot and heavy air warming your own face as she tightly clasped her hands together as if in prayer. "R-Really?!" she squeaked out, voice seeming to rise an octave higher. Mikan looked so pitiful and terrifying as she inched closer to you, wanting to drink your words with what seemed to be hope. Hope of memorializing her Beloved.

Smiling, you engraved her expression into your mind, never wanting to forget such a beautiful display.

You nodded slowly, your grin widening with malice and amusement like a monster playing with its food. Mikan's despair was like a five star meal, the crumbling Nurse always on the brink of ruin. And knowing that _you_ were the one breaking her down made you feel so good, so complete, so full that you wanted nothing more than to continue even as a tiny voice in your head screamed to stop hurting Mikan.

"Th-Then…" the Nurse muttered to herself, her mind racing with how many ways she can inflict despair unto the agents, unto the world. "I'll do my best. I won't—No, I won't let the world ever forget my Beloved. Never never never nevernevernever."

You could only grin as Mikan ranted, eyes glowing a bright red, hot and heavy pants being exhaled at a faster pace.

_'Too easy.'_

* * *

Breakfast in the dining hall was just as you expected.

Seated at the rectangular center table, you could most of your fellow Despairs. Nagito and Kazuichi were seated on the left, already leisurely enjoying their breakfast from Teruteru while Hiyoko and Ibuki were on the other side. Their own meals were still hot and untouched, indicating that they also just arrived at the table.

Noticing your arrival with Mikan, Ibuki eagerly waved at the both of you. "OOOOOOHHH!! Good nom' nom Nomming, you two!" the Musician greeted, nearly jumping from her seat.

You waved back, taking a seat besides Nagito. Mikan took your other side before saying her morning greetings to the Musician and the Dancer. The Nurse gave a quick glance at Nagito and even as their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, you could sense the spark of animosity between the two.

It wasn't all that strange that Nagito and Mikan didn't get along well. Mikan was in love with Junko while Nagito abhorred her—hated the True Ultimate Despair in the strange Nagito way he was known for. They couldn't stand being in the same room with each other unless there was a third person.

Which was a stark contrast for how well they got along in their school days. Nagito's unlucky streaks tend to get him more injured than not and it was always Mikan that patched him up.

"Good morning, everyone. Hope everyone had a good night's rest?" you asked politely as a Monokuma robot brought your breakfast. Oatmeal, yogurt, and an omelet. Strangely standard for someone like Teruteru, whose flair and exuberance was his charm point, integrated so deeply into his character that you wouldn't recognize the Chef without it. Despite the simplicity of the meal, you had no doubt that Teruteru made the possible food for his former classmates.

Hiyoko frowned at your question, expressing a clear mix of dissatisfaction at her current living quarters. "Of course not! It wouldn't kill someone to clean up the dorms before we came here, ya know?" she sarcastically spat out. "Even if it's the end of the world, I don't want to be living in a hovel. _"_

"Oh, c'mon, it wasn't that bad," Kazuichi quips, shoving a spoonful of warm oatmeal into his mouth. "It's better than what most people are living in nowadays."

"I'm not 'most people'!" the Dancer shot back with a deadly glare. " _You_ might be used to living in such a dirty, cramped place, but someone of my caliber isn't. Send some Monokuma robots to clean up my room or something. Can't stand the dust in that place…"

It was too early in the morning to entertain Hiyoko's whining. Even if you were fond of her, insults and all, there was still a limit to your patience.

"I-I agree!" Mikan spoke up next to you. "Dust can negatively affect the respiratory system. And, there's also the dangers of dust mites, insect droppings, and dead skin!" No matter how long it was, Mikan's competence as the Ultimate Nurse still shone through. And no matter how much she was filled with despair there was still the underlying concern towards her peers.

Kazuichi's expression twisted in disgust at Mikan's expression and he hastily said, "Guh, fine! I'll have a few Monokumas clean up her room—" 

Ibuki raised her hand in the air, voice painted with worry. "Send some to my room, too! Ibuki needs her lungs!"

"And to Ibuki's! And mine!" you added, hoping to take part in the free clean-up service.

The Mechanic pointed a finger in your direction, tears in his eyes. "I'm not runnin' a maid service!"

"GOOOOOODDDD MORNING, EVERYONE!" Nekomaru and Akane walked in, shoulder-to-shoulder.

Everyone turned their gaze towards the dining hall entrance, seeing Nekomaru and Akane entering. The Gymnast picked at her ear, question hanging in the air as she strode in. Spying your food, her eyes widened, hunger apparent in her dark eyes. However, she bit the inside of her cheek to restrain herself, satisfying herself with the taste of blood that pooled on her tongue.

The Gymnast took a seat on the far end of the right side of the table. Far away to stop herself from instinctively eating, but near enough to smell the delicious scent of breakfast.

Nekomaru took his place next to Ibuki, a Monokuma robot serving him the same dish as yourself.

"Oh, just drop it," Kazuichi whined, closing his eyes as if to shut away the previous conversation. "It was stupid, anyways. Can we just get down to business already?"

"I wasn't aware there was any business," you commented, digging into your breakfast, making a show of eating the warm food in front of Akane. Despair and hunger shown darkly in her irises, too focused on your meal to be mad at your provocation. You shoved the spoonful of oatmeal into your mouth, the sweet taste of Teruteru's breakfast meal not comparing to the savory and bitter flavor of Akane's despair.

Nagito glanced at you. "C'mon, don't play dumb," he said. "Kazuichi is _obviously_ referring to the funeral. None of us besides you, Sonia, and Fuyuhiko know about it. We're in suspense!"

' _He is not going to let it go, huh_ ,' you thought in irritation, jabbing your spoon into the oatmeal. You felt the eyes of the other Remnants bore into you.

Shrinking under their gaze, you resolved to stand your ground on the matter. At least, until Fuyuhiko or Sonia gave their say so. You weren't going to say anything. You didn't feel like risking what would happen if the Yakuza caught a whiff of you spoiling the ending.

Pouting at Nagito's interference, you try to defuse the situation before you get ganged up by the others.

"I'm not running the risk of having Fuyuhiko or Sonia getting mad at me for telling you all. Besides, I'm a strict no-spoiler kinda person. It would go against my principles."

Hiyoko gave you a vicious sneer, "You're just saying that so you can lord over us being in the dark. Just admit it. You get off on the fact that you know something we don’t…!"

Despite the harsh words, you didn't flinch. However, you were quite irritated with Hiyoko questioning you like that. And you quick to snap her back into place. "Maybe," you said with a smile, your lips not reaching your lips. "Or maybe it's because I'm useful, Hiyoko. What can a _dancer_ do in this situation?"

You knew you gave the Dancer a brutal blow, one that was below the belt. However, for all of Hiyoko's bullying, manipulation, and bluster, you figured it was just a ruse. Like the way an animal makes itself appear bigger in the face of a predator. If Hiyoko wanted to be strong, then her despair was knowing that she was a weakling.

Silence took over the dining area as Hiyoko dropped her head, shoulders beginning to shake. One would have thought you made her cry before laughter filled the area. It steadily rose in pitch, becoming a sound that enveloped the entire room like a tidal wave. Hiyoko cackled loudly, snapping her head up towards the ceiling as tears streamed down her pale cheeks. Even from your angle, you could tell that Hiyoko's eyes were flashing that signature shade of red just as Mikan's did.

"You're—you're ri-right…! You're completely right!" she laughed between sobs, "Wh-What can someone like me do to help Junko's funeral? All I could ever do right…is ju-just dan-dance! I-I can't do anything!" You couldn't tell if Hiyoko's tears were genuine because for all her appearances, she was good at getting what she wanted. Her child-like appearance back in the academy could easily disarm you, but now that you were older you knew Hiyoko's tricks inside and out.

Normally, you would have instantly regretted making Hiyoko break apart like this. However, you could do nothing but relish her despair. You had no doubt that you would pay for this later on, whether that be a lecture from Nagito or a horrible prank from Hiyoko. Either way, you were already mentally preparing yourself for the consequences and relishing in your friend's despair. 

"Don't worry about it, Hiyoko!" the Musician chirped, embracing her in a tight embrace "I bet you and me can have a joint performance at the funeral. Like as the Director said…" She gestures towards you. " _I won't sing unless you dance_."

The Musician looked at you meaningfully, her dark eyes uncharacteristically serious for someone like Ibuki. "Junko would want to have the most despair-inducing funeral in all of human history. And what better way to do that than with our performance! If the Director can't make a funeral that brings the viewers to tears, then I think that _she's_ the one that can't do anything right!" 

Your jaw clenches, angry with Ibuki's snide jab. Biting your tongue, you suppressed the urge to shoot back because it would do no good to fight with Ibuki of all people. You boxed away Ibuki's harsh words, filing it away for 'Future Reference' and letting the memory slip away. If Ibuki's and Hiyoko's performance could make a few of the viewers commit suicide, then why not?

It felt horrible to be challenged like that, to just lay down and take it. ' _Is this what Hiyoko felt when I snapped at her?_ ' you weakly wondered, indulging in the feeling of helplessness and weakness that pooled in your stomach, crawled up your throat, and spread itself out in your mouth. The misery over having you worth reduced tasted bitter and fleeting, only emphasized with something sour underneath. ' _How sad and terrible I was to her...What a wonderful sense of despair she must feel!_ ' 

You flashed a brilliant smile at the pair as your eyes glowed red like a hot poker. "Of course, be my guest!"

Sucking up your somewhat bruised ego, you flashed a brilliant smile at the pair as your eyes glowed red like a hot poker. "Of course, be my guest!"

Ibuki cheered, her energetic cries reaching all the way towards the kitchen.

"Oh, if you're letting Ibuki have her concert, then you're letting me handle the cooking, right?! It's only natural."

A shiver went down your spine at the suave voice. It's been a while since you spoke with the Chef, ever since the incident in Tokyo. When the Future Foundation came to suppress the riots, you had to make your exit swift and split up with Teruteru without even indulging in a meal.

You had to take an L on that and retreated back to your base with instant noodles waiting.

Teruteru turned his gaze towards you, a welcoming smile forming on his face. "Why, hello there, _mademoiselle_! You're still as stunning as ever!" The memory of your adventures in Tokyo resurfacing in his mind, the rush of pleasure and depravity washing over Teruteru like a tidal wave. He rushed over to you, immediately at your side as he gently held your hand, ready to give a kiss in greeting. Before his lips could touch your skin, however, you ripped away your hand.

Despite the rude gesture, the Chef continued to speak as if it never happened and continued to speak in a suave manner. 

"We had to leave right after the climax, I was worried I would never see you again. It's horrible to leave your partner in the middle of it."

Over the years, you’ve grown to be quite used to Teruteru's perversion. And you had a handle on the Chef, if he ever got too out of control. You tip-toed a fine line between playing along with Teruteru and snapping at him. You had to pride yourself in enjoying the finer things in life and when to buckle down.

And _this_ was the time to enjoy your sweet time with your classmates.

"Teruteru," you crooned, leaning close to the Chef. "You know me! I just hit it and leave it because hat's just how I roll. If you want me to be exclusive to you, you're gonna have to prove yourself, _honey._ " Flashing him a seductive smirk, you watched as his cheeks heated up, before he shuffled away, legs squeezed together.

"And you're still the biggest tease!"

"A tease that _can and will_ break all your fingers if you try touching me again ♥!"

Hearing the threat in your cheerful voice, the Chef nervously laughed, shuffling to a seat opposite of you with his legs clenched harder at your words. Kazuichi groaned at your sickening display, clearly uncomfortable with your playful banter. He hated to think about what you said to Teruteru if you were alone.

"I know you guys don't like each other romantically," the Mechanic started. "But, can't you have a little class?"

"Says the guy whose only friends are bears," Hiyoko sneers, now fully recovered from your verbal assault. 

"The Monokuma Robots are not my friends! They're my creations, jeez! Stop making my life sound sadder than it is!"

Akane laughed, a grating sound that was only worsened from weak body. "Haha! I knew it! After not leaving your hideout for so long, you resorted to making friends with the Monokumas, huh?" She turned towards Nekomaru. "Hey, Coach! You owe me—"

"You guys sure are noisy first thing in the morning."

The jolly mood of the dining hall fell, the temperature seeming to lower as Fuyuhiko and Peko strode in. As they entered, a pair of Fuyuhiko's men came and took their positions at the front of the entrance, guns at the ready.

"GoOOOOod morning, Fuyuhiko!" Ibuki greeted ecstatically, paying no heed to the Yakuza's and the Swordswoman's intimidating figures. You couldn't tell if she could read the mood or just chose to ignore it. "Do you have super hearing like Ibuki?! Is that why you could hear us all the way from outside the dining hall?"

The Yakuza snarled. "Of course not. If I could hear you guys through walls, I would have cut off my ears a long time ago," he snapped, briskly walking towards the head of the table. Peko took the empty seat towards his right, but gave a brief greeting nod to her fellow Remnants.

It was like a dream come true, you thought. Seeing all your fellow Ultimate Despairs in one room, seated at a table was enough to send shivers down your spine. Even if you were short a few members, the sight was nothing short of despair-inducing.

"Now, let's get down to business," Fuyuhiko said, voice oozing crushing authority that it seemed to quash any of your group's former playfulness. "First, Sonia and the others will be arriving here in a few days. She's a little delayed since there's some rebel armies at the border of Novoselic. Europe's been acting up ever since Junko died."

A wave of sober silence went over the room at the reminder of their leader's death. It was like exposing a wound, but it had to be done. There was no way to deny Junko's death since everyone saw her execution. It left a bitter taste in your mouth to be reminded of how your muse was crushed so easily, so brutally underneath the trash compactor. However, you had to accept Junko's death in order to overcome it.

You were going to paint the world in such a beautiful shade of despair that Junko herself would have been proud.

"The Imposter is helping her out in the meantime by impersonating some Chinese dictator. It should be resolved in a flash," he finished. "For the time being, Gundham is on stand-by in Africa."

Mikan spoke up, nervous tone breaking through Fuyuhiko's calm and even voice, "H-How long…wi-will all tha-that traveling take? Br-breaking up a rebellion and the-then to Africa?"

The Yakuza shook his head. "Not long. Last I heard from the Princess the rebellion forces were about to surrender. She should be in Africa by now with the others," he answered. "Besides, there's no such thing as air traffic anymore, so the latest she would be here in a day or two."

In curiosity, you took a quick glance at Kazuichi. His expression was stony, unreadable, showing not a hint of a reaction towards news about Sonia's arrival. You wondered what he felt, what kind of despair the Mechanic was experiencing over denying his feelings towards Sonia.

Fuyuhiko waved his hand dismissively as if wanting to dispel a horrid smell in the room. "Moving onto the funeral business," he said. "The Director is preparing the venue and I expect you all to obey her orders. Her flair for the dramatic might _actually_ be of use this time."

You twitched, but chose to ignore the jab.

"Yo, Fuyuhiko," Akane called out, raising her hand as if in class. "But, what'cha gonna do with the body? That's what's on everyone's mind, so can you clear that up?"

His golden gaze cut through the air, hot and searing. "I've gotten the same question for the past few days. And the answer is always going to be the same: it's a surprise! Don't all you fuckers like surprises?! That's the last time we're addressing the issue until the funeral, so you all better just wait patiently!" 

He slammed down his hand on the table, rattling the metal so harshly that you thought the supports would give out and break. Different from you, it seemed that the question that was on everyone's minds seemed to be quelled. When Fuyuhiko said it was over, it was over.

When everyone was silent, Fuyuhiko cleared his throat, straightening out his slightly disheveled scarf. "Mikan, it's up to you to prepare the body and listen to whatever the Director says. Don't ask questions, just do it." The Nurse squeaked, nodding her head vigorously.

His gaze shifts over to the Mechanic, "Kazuichi, you're working on the hijacking, right? And Peko told me that you need contact with our cells. Need any help?"

Kazuichi gives an affirming shake of his head. "Yeah, there's a few I don't have contact with, so it would help if you can get me in touch with some of our groups in the south." Fuyuhiko nodded.

"Got it. Come up to the president's suite later and tell me what you need."

Turning towards Nekomaru and Akane, he gives the duo a pointed glance. "Nekomaru, I'm counting on you and Akane are doing the heavy lifting for the venue."

"Roger!"

"Understooooodd!"

"Teruteru, prepare a feast worthy for the Ultimate Despair! And no weird-ass dishes! That means no horse tongue, no intestines, no human eyeballs or I swear!"

The Chef shivered at the challenge, an aimless smile on his lips. "You took out most of the fun, but it should be no problem to procure a few tasty ingredients! When you see the dishes I cook up, I'm sure Junko will be rolling around in her grave to have some…!"

"And me, Fuyuhiko?"

Naigto spoke up from his seat, a friendly smile still plastered on his lips. The Yakuza glared, killing intent clear in his golden eyes and electrifying the air. " _You_ , stay out of trouble."

Like everyone else, you expected Nagito to set fire to Junko's body the minute he saw a chance. It was no secret how much the Luckster hated the True Ultimate Despair. No one knew if that hate extended to his fellow Remnants, but it was a touchy and confusing subject that you didn't feel like exploring.

The Luckster sighed in disappointment as if his plan was found out. With a casual shrug of his shoulders, he replied, "Oh, well. If that's what you insist, then I have no choice but to obey." For some reason, no one could relax as Nagito said those words.

"Nagito." It was Peko who spoke up, standing from her seat with red eyes flaring. Her usual intensity seemed to have doubled as despair and murderous intent came together, hand gripping her sword. "If you do anything to jeopardize Junko Enoshima's funeral, I will _personally_ cut you down. Even if we were classmates, I won't hesitate with someone like you."

The Luckster held Peko's gaze as if challenging her. For a moment, the air seemed to heat up, Remnant pitted against Remnant, and it felt like the atmosphere would choke you. Fuyuhiko was the first one to move in that suffocating room, aiming to calm down the Swordswoman.

But, it was Nagito that backed down.

"Hahaha, no need to look so scary, Peko!" he cheerfully said, hands raised defensively. "If everyone is so cautious about me messing with the body, then that's fine. I don’t even know where it is."

"And you don't need to know," Fuyuhiko growled. "Now, is there anything else that I need to know?"

Ibuki jumped in her seat, raising her hand like Akane did earlier. "Oh, oh! The Director said that me and Hiyoko can do a joint concert during the funeral! So, we're going to need the best stage possible!"

The Yakuza turned his accusatory gaze towards you, apparently not liking how you went off "Who promised that…?"

The Musician pressed her index fingers together, unsure expression painted on her expression. "E-Er..like I said, it was the Direc—"

"It sounded like a good idea!" you interject hastily, hoping to clear the situation before it could get muddy. "You know how popular their concerts are! And it wouldn't hurt to have something fun and festive at Junko's funeral! It would be totally destructive to air Ibuki and Hiyoko's performance! Fuyuhiko, you saw how influential they were back in Europe during the early days of the Tragedy. Imagine them on TV."

He weighed your words, vividly remembering the glory days of Ultimate Despair in Europe with Sonia's Novoselic forces. With your help as well as Nekomaru, Ibuki, and Hiyoko, the riots in France were something to behold and you made it look easy. And, even if you were needlessly dramatic, Fuyuhiko had to admit an Ultimate Despair concert sounded interesting, fun, and unbearably enticing.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Fuyuhiko heaved a heavy sigh. "Fine! It may mean more work, but anything worth doing requires it!" The Yakuza turned his eyes towards the table, his fellow Remnants meeting his own gaze.

"Everyone here has a job to do and we're going to make this the best _goddamn_ funeral for the True Ultimate Despair! No more fooling around, no more procrastinating! The world will be plunged into a state of despair so deep, it won't ever _recover_!"

His eyes burned a bright red as he spoke, the intensity rolling off Fuyuhiko in waves, infecting you and the others with his own misery over orchestrating Junko's funeral—the person who began The Tragedy, to be remembered and mourned by the followers she personally cultivated. Junko gave the Ultimate Despairs the world and everyone in the room owed it to her to repay the favor. 

He wouldn't let Junko's despair die, not until every corner of the world knew her name, _feared_ it, _despaired_ at it. 

A devilish terrible grin formed on Fuyuhiko’s face, teeth bared like a monster smiling.

"Let's show the entire world what true despair looks like." 


	5. The Visitor

Your eyes snapped open.

_ 'Someone…is watching me.' _

The minute the morning meeting ended with Fuyuhiko's rousing speech, you had spent the entire day working to the bone, shouting orders on the roof to the Monokuma soldiers and robots. The seating was easy to arrange —fifteen people wasn't a lot. The hard part was making a stage for Junko's casket and a podium for Fuyuhiko and Sonia. The greenhouse didn't provide much leeway, but with a little rearranging, you managed to have a decent stage built from the supplies the Yakuza procured. 

After dinner, you were so tired from standing all day that you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. However, something woke you from your deep and peaceful slumber, disturbing your momentary peace. Even with your eyes closed, you could tell that whoever it was had a heavy gaze, judging and observing your every movement under the sheets.

There were no clocks in the dorm room, however the quiet and chill of the night told you it was probably late—you guessed sometime in the early morning. ' _ Did someone sneak into my room? _ ' you wondered, trying to keep still under the covers. The feeling of being watched grew and you instinctively tried to pull the covers on your head.

As a film director, you were always watching. You weren't used to being  _ watched _ .

Swallowing down your growing discomfort, you tried to think of who was in your room. Could it be Hiyoko, wanting to pull a cruel prank on you for what happened in the morning? Was it Nagito still not giving up on finding Junko's body? Those were the only two who seemed to have a bone to pick with you.  At least that you knew of.

The list of suspects was short, so to speak.

"I know you're awake. Your breathing patterns changed and you're moving under the covers."

Red eyes bore into you from the inky blackness of your room, and you could see the vague outline of a dark figure leaning against your wall. The eyes flickered towards you, causing you to scream in surprise. Instantly, your hand began scrambling for the deskside lamp and switching it on, the room becoming bathed in a warm yellow light that illuminated every corner of your quarters.

You shot up from your bed, anger and violation evident on your face. You didn't even care that you only had a tank-top and underwear as you marched up to your  _ old friend _ . 

"What the HELL do you think you're doing here?!"

Ignoring your outburst, Izuru Kamukura straightened himself out, barely batting an eyelash at you being half-naked.

"Attending Junko Enoshima's funeral, of course."

Your face froze, brow quirked at his strange statement. Izuru Kamukua was someone close enough to be called second-in-command within the Ultimate Despairs. However, his relationship with Junko didn’t seem all that friendly. Hell, Izuru didn't seem to even care about his fellow Remnants! You didn't think he would come to see her funeral because it would be 'boring'.

"Why? You don't even _ like _ Junko."

The question hung in the air for a moment before being broken by a soft sigh from Izuru.

"What a boring question."

You frowned, "Save me the boring bullshit, Izuru, and just answer the question already."

He turned his heavy gaze towards you. "Because it seemed interesting," Izuru answered you, voice so bland, so neutral that you couldn’t discern any true motive from the man.

He was always a hard character to read, having the ability to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Izuru Kamukura had no flaws, no human qualities that sparked your interest. When you met the Ultimate Hope, you were excited to find out what kind of person he was, but meeting Izuru in person killed your dream.

"…What the fuck? Why'd you sneak into my room—"

Before you could finish your inquiry, Izuru sidestepped away from you, headed towards your door, and gently opened it. You could only stare as Peko, dressed in her white pantsuit, was about to knock at your door. Just like yourself, the Swordswoman's expression was just as surprised as you were, mouth slightly agape.

"Izuru Kamukura, why the hell are you here?!" On instinct, Peko reached for her sword despite knowing it was a futile gesture with someone like Izuru. He didn't flinch at the threatening intensity the woman exuded, didn't even blink at how her hand was already on her sword.

"I don't wish to keep repeating the same answer to all the other Remnants, so I will explain this to Fuyuhiko if you wake him," Izuru says to her. "I'm merely here to observe how Junko's memory will be preserved, how despair will shape the world when the True Ultimate Despair died."

That seemed like a very Izuru-like answer. But, you didn't trust anyone that held the title of Ultimate Hope. No matter how closely they worked with Junko.

"Okayyy," you drawled, stepping between Peko and Izuru. "But, why did you break into  _ my _ room?"

The young man shrugged. "I predicted that you would be one of the people in charge of her funeral," he answered. "If I went into Fuyuhiko's room, he would have woken the entire building and any other living beings within a mile radius of this hideout."

Neither Peko nor you could deny that possibility.

Before the awkward silence could take over, you noticed how cold your legs were, goose bumps forming on your skin. "Well, if you wanna talk to Boss Baby, go ahead and wake him up," you said briskly, shivering from the intruding night air. "I want to put on some pants and get back to sleep, thank you very much." 

* * *

"What the fuck are  _ you _ doing here?"

It was barely three in the morning and Fuyuhiko could tell that today wasn't going to be a pleasant day. In front of the Yakuza was his partner and Izuru Kamukura in all his apathetic glory in the morning chill. Even if the Yakuza was about to fall asleep, getting the Ultimate Hope breaking into the building was the equivalent of splashing a bucketful of cold water onto his face.

He was wide awake now.

"Apparently, Izuru wants to observe Junko's funeral," Peko answered. "He broke into the Director's room and that's where I found him." 

Fuyuhiko slowly blinked, trying to process the information and imagine Izuru breaking into your room. However, what mattered was Izuru Kamukura's sudden appearance. The Yakuza couldn't even fathom how he knew that they picked this location, and didn't care enough to ask. He was Izuru  _ fukcin' _ Kamukura, the man could do anything!

He sighed, "Give me one second. I was just about to go to bed and then this gets dropped into my lap." In his head, Fuyuhiko counted to five slowly. He didn't want to deal with this situation so early in the morning. However, he was just delaying the inevitable.

He had to talk to Izuru, who was undeniably part of Ultimate Despair and just as important as him and Sonia. If not more so. 

"So you came here to this hideout, broke into the Director's room, and what?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm merely here to observe how dangerous Junko's memory will become. What kind of despair will the world be pushed in? Without Junko Enoshima, the Future Foundation will undoubtedly gain power. However, the conflict between hope and despair still persists, strengthens with each passing day."

Fuyuhiko sneered. One of the things he hated about Izuru was his observer stance, looking down from below on the war between despair and hope. You could never tell with someone like him, whether he was loyal or not. Whether he was going to betray you. All that mattered to Izuru Kamukura was if the situation was enough to hold his attention. 

Izuru didn't even  _ enjoy _ despair. He was merely determined to have interesting things happen, to feel the thrill of life, and never indulged in misery from the bottom of his soul.

He didn't know if that qualified Izuru to be a Remnant of Despair. Junko certainly seemed to think so and Fuyuhiko wasn't going to question the True Ultimate Despair about her choices.

"So, you just wanted to have a little fun, I get it," Fuyuhiko hissed through clenched teeth. "And you can watch from the sidelines, that's fine. Hell, you can keep Nagito out of trouble, probably!" He glared at Izuru before finishing his statement.

"But, you better pull your weight around here and help."

"Don't insult me, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu," Izuru shot back, facial expression just as neutral as before. But, one can imagine the sneer on the young man's face. "I can single handedly plan out this funeral myself."

Fuyuhiko crossed his arms and Peko's murderous intent was rolling off her in waves. This was the rare time the Swordswoman was this angry, face contorting into a slight sneer. Usually steely, Fuyuhiko felt himself froze at her harsh words.

“Izuru Kamukura, you will not be planning her funeral. You don’t follow Junko Enoshima’s philosophies, you’re not worthy of doing so,” Peko growled, unsheathing the slightest sliver of her sword. Fuyuhiko instantly reigned his partner in. As much as he wanted to beat Izuru for his words, he was the Ultimate Hope. His talent and ability was real. 

He held up his hand. “Wait a second, Peko. Like this bastard said, he could be useful for whatever we need. All the difficult tasks can be left up to Izuru.” 

The Swordswoman took a fleeting glance to her partner, slowly calming herself as she put away her sword. Fuyhiko did raise a good point. As Kazuichi was contacting the other Despair cells, he found it difficult to secure a stable connection. The Ultimate Hope could fix that.

“...Very well.” 

However, that wasn’t the end of the conversation as Fuyuhiko glared at Izuru. “Do whatever you think is necessary to make sure Junko’s service lives up to her name.” 

"Your poor attempt to insult me will do you no good, Fuyuhiko. Why would I be bothered about being invited to a party with people I don't care for?"

That was the last straw.

"Then, WHY are you here?! WHY not at the funeral service?! I don't want to bore such a  _ respectable _ bastard like yourself! You never cared for Junko the way we did, so WHY!"

It was a wonder why no one came in yet. Either the walls were thick or they didn’t want to get in Fuyuhiko's warpath.

Izuru's gaze flickered towards him, the bright crimson burning through the shadows that encroached on his features. From the intensity of his stare, Peko seemed to falter a moment's hesitation that could mean the difference between life and death. As Izuru spoke, the Yakuza felt as if all the air in the room was sucked out. The young man's voice resonated in the desolate room, rattling Fuyuhiko and Peko's cores.

"Because I am part of Ultimate Despair. For as long as it holds my attention."

There was no room for question.

* * *

After last night's fiasco with Izuru, you woke up early to treat yourself with a pot of coffee before the others could enter the dining hall. You couldn't fall back to sleep after the Ultimate Hope broke into your room, the weight of his stare still lingering on your back. With heavy eyelids, you made your way into the crisp morning air to go into the building for some caffeine.

You broke out into a shudder, remembering the vivid hot red of the male's eyes. ' _ His stare is creepier than every single horror movie villain combined,'  _ you mused with a yawn. ' _ Hannibal Lector's got nothing on Izuru _ .' If Lady Luck was in your favor, maybe a Monokuma Robot could make you some. And if you had time, you could check out the venue before breakfast.

And as if to apologize for having Izuru break into your room, you immediately found a Monokuma Robot was preparing the first batches of ingredients for Teruteru before he came in. It only took a few simple verbal commands and the robot brewed an entire pot for your personal use. Now with the warm dark liquid in a silver thermos, you made your way onto the elevator.

Taking a sip of coffee, you felt a rush of energy run through your veins and a pleasant heat spread on your tongue. It was a shock from the cold early morning to the warmth of the office building. Sighing, you mentally prepared a list of tasks for the day, all ending with the party in the basement. You half-hoped any of the other Remnants would attend, however with just two people it didn't seem like much fun.

But, even  _ watching _ torture was surprisingly entertaining.

_ 'Okay, you got this! Just finish the stage and podium, add an extra seat for Izuru, and then I’m gonna torture that stupid Future Foundation guy! He won’t get away with spitting in my face!’  _ you resolved. _ 'Don't get distracted by the others and the rest of the plan should fall into place by the time Sonia gets here.' _

Unbeknownst to your fellow Remnants, the preparations for Junko's funeral service began long before recovering the body. It nearly took an entire month to have all the Despair cells in Japan cooperate, but it was worth it. The funeral service was just the beginning for the conflict between hope and despair, a catalyst of sorts. It wasn't entirely an event to mourn the late Junko Enoshima. It was also a foothold to gain power against the Future Foundation.

Mulling over your plan, you barely registered the ding of the elevator, reaching the fourth floor in a matter of moments. Mentally preparing yourself for the day, you went towards the door that led to the rooftop stairs—

Only to see a certain dark-haired-red-eyed-Ultimate-Hope at the corner of your eye.

"AAAAAH!

You leapt away from the wall where Izuru Kamukura stood against, his dark clothing and messy tresses a stark contrast to the beige hallway. In your surprise, the grip on your thermos laxed, the slick metal slipping out of your hand, and was about to be dropped onto the floor—

A pale hand caught it, metal just inches above the tile.

He handed the thermos back, causing you to blink rapidly as you tried to process what had just happened. You briefly wondered if Izuru Kamukura was showing basic human kindness or he just did it because he could.

"You're as loud as Fuyuhiko, Director."

…You were starting to lean more towards the latter. 

"I'm not even going to say anything anymore," you sighed. "Did you want to see the venue? Not even Nagito's seen it. I gave some explicit threats that if he went up there, he's going to get thrown off the roof or the stairs."

"Wise choice."

"Hm."

Going up the roof, you opened the door and waited for a brief moment, gauging if Izuru was following. With a silent step, Izuru followed you up the stairs. The ascent was quick and quiet, you taking two steps at a time in an effort to hurry towards the roof.

The rooftop was large and spacious with a greenhouse in the center. The greenhouse was a grand structure, now a shadow of its former beauty. Its metal supports were now rusty and stained black with dirt, the glass not faring any better. It took an entire day for the Monokuma robots and soldiers to clean it up, as well as remove the dead plants and clear out the interior. 

Even with all your efforts, it was difficult to restore the rooftop and greenhouse back to its past glory.

Now, teeming with men and women wearing Monokuma Helmets as well as robots of the despair mascot, you were proud to see that your team was still working. You had worked with Fuyuhiko to make a rotation schedule between your men and his. Despite the complete and utter obedience the helmets forced, it didn’t mean that a soldier would get tired.

If you weren't careful, you could lose a valued member of your production crew.

Glancing at Izuru, you wiggled your eyebrows, "So? Whaddya think?"

Despite your distrust of the Ultimate Hope, he did have all the talents Hope's Peak researched. Maybe there was the Ultimate Homemaker or Stage Designer in there.

"…Acceptable considering your limited resources and time restraints," Izuru simply answered. His eyes scanned over the bustling soldiers and robots, their hurried steps creating an unpredictable rhythm that he briefly indulged in. 

You placed your hand on your hip, taking another sip of coffee and mulled over the man's words. There was no reason for Izuru to lie, so maybe it was honest praise? It seemed better to think of it like that.

"Alright, you wanna see the inside? I don't mind since you're an important person and al—"

"Tell me something, Director."

You cocked your head at his sudden interjection. "What is it?"

Izuru turned his eyes towards you, his crushing gaze making you feel weak and vulnerable as if all your secrets were exposed to him. Instinctively, you looked away from him, squirming uncomfortably. "It's very obvious that the Princess and Yakuza are planning something beyond Junko's burial," he started. It didn’t surprise you that Izuru knew that.

As a group, the Ultimate Despair—now Remnants—were scattered yet they maintained a tight network of information. Composed of sympathizers of Junko's cause or just those trying to earn a living during the Tragedy, the information network was trustworthy. You couldn't imagine a person betraying Ultimate Despair, in fear of evoking your organization's wrath.

"…Well, yeah," you stated quite blandly. What were you supposed to say? Your usual jokes and teasing wouldn't get past Izuru, giving up on even trying to derail the Ultimate Hope. Besides, Fuyuhiko and Sonia would forgive you if you told Izuru some information.  Probably.

"Besides, spreading despair with Junko one last time, it's also a tactical move, so to speak," you say, trying to keep the details as vague as possible. He sighed, immediately understanding who you were targeting.

"Against Future Foundation."

You turn your gaze onto the greenhouse, the sight of the funeral. Staring at Izuru spared you the pressure of being underneath his eyes, which seemed to look right through you. Well, you didn't mind. You liked having an audience and the Ultimate Hope was  _ expecting _ an answer.

"Of course. Future Foundation is on thin ice with the public. However, ever since they rescued the Survivors of the Killing School Life, Future Foundation's been gaining traction." A sinister smirk formed on your lips, teeth bared in anticipation, "This funeral is going to kill off whatever trust they gained."

The Ultimate Hope could immediately see your plan, the steps, the pieces falling into place slowly in his mind. However, there were some blank spaces, bits of information he didn't have to completely formulate your motives.

He knew for sure that you wanted to incorporate Hikaru, the Ultimate Actor and your younger brother, into your plot. And Izuru knew that Sonia and Fuyuhiko were coordinating with the other Remnants around the world, probably to plot simultaneous riots similar to those at the beginning of The Tragedy.

The man mulled over your words, trying to decipher what you were possibly going to do. Did it have something to do with the 78th Class? If the plot you were alluding to had something to do with your brother, Hikaru, then it would be difficult. Ever since he joined the Future Foundation with other Survivors, there was no trace of the Ultimate Actor that Izuru could find. 

Later, he would have to contact Chisa about this.

...Or Izuru could just let the matter rest. After all, whatever you were planning was going to be revealed in a few days. If he couldn’t predict what you were going to do, then that was fine with him.

"I see. The Future Foundation, despite its efforts to piece society back together, is on shaky ground with common people," Izuru noted, recalling how disgruntled some of the refugees were. That was why he was Ultimate Despair, after all.

The Ultimate Hope's seen it all before: you put a group of men in a position of authority and give them a uniform, they were no different from the criminals they were sworn to protect the people from. He witnessed a handful of incidents from the Sixth Division, which was commanded by a man whose ideal might make right.

' _ Juzo Sakakura, the former Ultimate Boxer _ ,' Izuru briefly recalled, the lingering memories of Hajime Hinata resurfacing. Of course, Juzo's talent was implanted inside of him and Izuru was confident he could take the man on in a fight now.  _ 'Why am I not surprised that his Division deals with riot suppression and criminal investigation?' _

"Yup!" you grinned. "I mean, not all the Future Foundation agents are assholes, but…like most of them are. It shouldn't be too hard to make the public distrust them. Besides, what we're really doing isn't bad, per se. It's more like… _ letting the truth ring out _ , you get me?"

You flashed a knowing look towards Izuru, your eyes a vivid crimson in the morning mist. The glance was an unspoken communication, one that only the Ultimate Hope would understand. Considering your relationship with him, Izuru knew what you were hinting at.  _ 'Perhaps, the Director is still angry over that incident?' _ Izuru wondered despite already knowing the answer.  _ 'I would be surprised if she wasn't. It must be very despair-inducing for her to work with me.' _

"How boring."

* * *

Surprisingly, Izuru's appearance didn't make a big splash like you hoped it would.

Fuyuhiko was at the head of the table with Peko at his side, who was peacefully eating some eggs and buttered bread. You thought that the breakfast needed some meat (bacon or Spam or  _ anything _ !) to make the meal complete, but it was a difficult ingredient to come-by. Even with the Future Foundation's great efforts, meat was still a prized ingredient during The Tragedy.

Across from Peko there was Hiyoko and Mikan, whose heads instantly turned towards your companion. You could see the surprise register in their eyes, but they weren't as surprised as you expected them to be. Fuyuhiko probably told everyone by this time, not wanting to have such a big fuss in the morning meeting. It was for the better.

Planning a funeral was busy and everyone had a job to do. You wanted to talk to Mikan about Junko's body, what kind of supplies and assistance she needed. Everything had to be on track and you were going to be damned if anything happened on your watch!

"G-Go-Good morning, yo-you two…!" Mikan squeaked out, clearly uncomfortable with Izuru's sudden appearance. You weren't surprised. Izuru wasn't part of your class and his activities as Ultimate Despair, brutal as they were, always existed on its fringes. The Nurse was just treating him respectfully due to being in the same organization.

Hiyoko…was not so respectful.

"Geh," she sneered, giving the young man a pointed look. "Izuru really is here, huh? I thought Fuyuhiko was just kidding…"

Fuyuhiko gave a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. "Why would I even joke about that?"

Silently, Izuru took a seat next to Peko, crimson eyes focused on the Dancer. "As I've explained numerous times," he said, "I am part of Ultimate Despair." His tone was as flat as ever yet his word choice seemed to convey the slight annoyance had for the situation. He must have grown tired of explaining himself.

You were about to take a seat next to Hiyoko but was stopped by Izuru.

"Director."

You glance at him. "What?"

"Sit next to me. Right now."

You didn't like where this was going yet you still obeyed. It wasn't like he was going to stab you if you sat down. With a deep frown, you plopped down next to Izuru with a dramatic huff. Immediately the door opened…to reveal Nagito Komaeda.

"Izuru Kamukura!!!"

The pieces fell into place at Izuru's plan and you were _ not _ for it.

"…fuck," you whispered under your breath as you were now wedged between the Ultimate Hope and the Ultimate Lucky Student. Not even all the coffee in the world could have prepared you for this.

"When did you get here?!" Nagito asked eagerly, hands on the table to get a better look at the dark-haired young man. However, with you in the way, you acted as a barrier between the two. You gave a loud groan as Nagito's shirt with the smell of death and rot was near your nose. "Was it when the Director started screaming in the night or when Fuyuhiko started yelling?"

The Swordswoman's eyes narrowed dangerously, "So noisy."

"Ugh…Nagito if you don't back the _ fuck _ up and calm down, I'm going to break your neck with a chair," you threatened, voice low with annoyance. The deadly glare you gave the Luckster conveyed the seriousness of your words. The fact that you were so specific nailed it into Nagito that you were getting irritated. He slowly got back into his seat, flashing you an remorseful smile. 

"Ah, sorry," he apologized sheepishly. "I was merely excited. This must have been why I was prevented from seeing the body. It was all in preparation for meeting the Ultimate Hope once again!" Nagito's grin returned as he locked eyes with Izuru, whose breakfast was given to him by a Monokuma. Izuru ignored Nagito, his gaze turned away from the Luckster. 

You made a face at this. Nagito's luck worked in mysterious ways and you  _ did not _ want to be part of his luck cycle.

"Quiet down!" the Yakuza barked at Nagito. The Luckster retreated back into his seat, the  authoritative  voice of Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu causing him to reign his excitement. "Is it too much to ask for a quiet normal breakfast? We've got a lot of work to do without being sidetracked!"

A Monokuma Robot came up to you next, serving you your own breakfast. Now that Nagito was calmer, it was much more bearable to sit down next to him and Izuru. If the Luckster continued his  _ fanboying _ , your blood pressure was going to start rising to dangerous levels.

Kazuichi, Ibuki, and Akane filtered through the entrance and you watched for their reactions towards the Ultimate Hope. Izuru was an outsider, probably even more so than Nagito. And it wasn't often that any of your peers met with the man. The Mechanic wearily looked at Izuru before sharply turning away and pulled out a chair next to Mikan. Even if no words were exchanged, it wasn't surprising that Kazuichi was suspicious of the Ultimate Hope. Kazuichi was one of the few Remnants that walked eggshells around the Ultimate Hope, not trusting someone who held a title that stood against everything he believed in. 

The Mechanic's trust didn't extend far and it certainly didn’t extend to Izuru Kamukura.

"Ah, Izuru really is here, huh!" she exclaimed, hand over the top of her eyes as if to make sure she was seeing right. "Color Ibuki surprised!"

He didn't reply, didn't see the need to as Ibuki took her seat next to Kazuichi. 

At the entrance, the Gymnast only stared at Izuru curiously, hand on her bony hip. Catching sight of the Ultimate Hope, a wicked grin formed on Akane's face, a fiery aura surrounding her. She seemed to gain an almost demonic expression, hands outstretched in an unwavering desire for a fight. "Izuru's here! I thought Baby Gangsta was joking around, but this is just great!"

(You heard something snap and turning towards the Yakuza, you could see Fuyuhiko's face turn _that_ special shade of purple.  _ Akane purple _ , you dubbed it. That shade was only reserved for when the Yakuza reached a new level of anger).

You were a bit surprised at how Akane remembered Izuru's name. It wasn't as if he showed himself every day and he wasn't exactly the talkative type. Noting your curiosity, Izuru gave you a curt explanation, "We had a brief competition on how many Future Foundations we could fight. Naturally, I won."

Izuru Kamukura participating in a competition? You had to give Akane props to challenge Izuru like that. If this was during the time when she was fasting, then you _ really _ had to praise her.

"It would be a waste of time," the Ultimate Hope said, rejecting her challenge. "No matter what you do, no matter how much you train, I will always beat you, Akane Owari." He said it so definitively that there was no argument yet someone as emotional and hot-headed as Akane could only respond.

"You never know until you try!" she rebutted, cracking her knuckles.

Hiyoko rolled her eyes, "Suuure. Why don't you power up on some left-over scraps before you go picking a fight?" The Dancer chuckled a wide and provoking grin forming on her face. "Actually, train for a hundred years and see how it goes."

Akane grinned at that, "Ohh, sounds good! I'll try that!"

In the face of Akane's toothy smile, you didn't have the heart to crush her dreams by pointing out Hiyoko's obvious insult. Somethings were just better off not knowing.

As if on cue, a boisterous guffawing entered your ears. "HAHAHA! Nothing like a good shit to start off the morning!" he loudly declared, rattling your bones. You take a sip of coffee at the Coach's unique entrance. Even if you were used to your fellow Ultimate's quirks, your lack of energy made it more difficult than usual to focus. Nekomaru took one glance at Izuru and, similar to Akane, he gave an excited grin.

"Ohhh, you're here, huh? Let me guess, Akane's already challenged you to a rematch?"

Izuru nodded, "Maybe the Ultimate Team Manager can tell their athlete that she has no chance against me. It's a pointless competition."

"Oh, I don’t know about that," Nekomaru mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Even if you won by a mile during that time, Akane went toe-to-toe with the head of the Sixth Division. You shouldn't underestimate her."

"Yeah, unless you're scared!"

You choked on your food at audacity of Akane. 

Now,  _ those _ were fighting words. 

Izuru turned towards Akane, red eyes burning bright against the dark shadows of his hair. Izuru Kamukura did not feel fear. "Fine. If you are so determined to see defeat, then as someone who is loved by talent, I will show you your place."

As the intense mood died down, some of the Monokuma Robots placed your breakfast in front of you and the other Remnants that arrived. The last to enter was Teruteru, where he seemed to sigh from the effort of making an extra meal for Izuru. It was such a simple meal, you didn't think an extra plate would be troubling. However, you remembered that Teruteru was also the Ultimate Cook (or Chef as he liked to say); he put all his effort in each and every meal no matter how simple it was.

"Sorry for being late, everyone! What with the unexpected guest, I had to take the time to make sure his meal was  _ absolutely _ perfect!" the Chef exclaimed and took a questioning glance at Izuru. "Even more so if the guest in question is a fellow Remnant."

You guessed even if not many trusted Izuru, there was still a sense of  camaraderie when it came to a fellow Ultimate Despair.

"Finally," Fuyuhiko said, standing up from the head of the table. "As I explained before, Izuru crashed the party. But, my orders still stand. Kazuichi is on contacting the cells to hijack the airwaves, Mikan is gonna prep the body, Ibuki and Hiyoko are rehearsing, Nekomaru and Akane are with me to get some of the supplies to the roof, Teruteru is on cooking duty, Peko you're leading some of the Monokuma Soldiers to procure the materials for the casket."

He flashes you, Izuru, and Nagito a look. "Director will be handling all the venue arrangements. Nagito plus Izuru, stay out of trouble."

_ 'Wow, Fuyuhiko just put them in the same boat, the same level. That's got to hurt _ ,' you mused, nervously glancing at the young man. He didn't seem disturbed with the Yakuza's words, probably didn't care.

"Amazing, your hindsight is truly worthy to be called Ultimate!" the Luckster praised, causing Fuyuhiko to cast him a curious glance. "You can't expect the Ultimate Hope to handle the body of the True Ultimate Despair, Fuyuhiko…It's just not natural."

You took a long swig of coffee, preparing yourself for what seemed to be shaping up to be a very interesting week. 

This class reunion/despair funeral was going to be  _ something.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed this chapter!   
> tumblr: https://erinin.tumblr.com/


	6. The Body

"Yoooo, Teruteru, what's on the menu today?!"

After a productive morning (no sighting of Nagito or Izuru near the roof, thank goodness!), you decided to take a break for lunch.

"Why, how about having _me_ for lunch?" Teruteru teased from the kitchen, the sounds of a knife against the chopping board. You grinned from the entrance of the dining hall, taking a seat at the table.

Laughing, you shot back, "You'd make a tasty main dish, Chef. But, unfortunately, I don't have a craving for a Teruteru _tonkatsu_. Can I just get some leftovers, if you have some? I know you're busy with testing out recipes."

Even at your degrading remark, you heard the Chef chuckle. "Oh, how considerate of you. Fine, I have some leftovers from today's breakfast. I didn't expect Izuru to swing by, so I made some extra." There was a brief pause before you heard Teruteru's voice again.

"Hey, you! Get some of the leftovers from the fridge and give it to the Director!"

There were times when the Chef's natural dialect came out, only showing itself in moments of great emotion. As Ultimate Despair, you've heard it more often now than in your academy days. 

You waited for a moment until you saw one of Teruteru's assistants come out of the kitchen. It was a woman, haggard with empty eyes. Similar to Akane, she looked more like a skeleton than a human. Unlike your production crew and Fuyuhiko's men, she didn't have a Monokuma Helmet.

She was one of the many who submitted to Ultimate Despair in order to survive. All the horror she witnessed, all the despair she committed wore her down until she was nothing but a husk of her former self.

You guessed she was grateful to be even eating. Teruteru liked giving his assistants random samplings of his food. To be served a meal from the Ultimate Cook was a blessing in itself. And some even seemed happy to die with the heavenly flavors of what a former student of Hope's Peak had to offer.

She presented you with a plate of eggs and buttered bread, though now steaming from being briefly heated up by the stove. You winked at her, "Thanks! Haha, hope you don't die when Teruteru asks you to taste test something!"

You savored the fear in her eyes as she hurried back to the kitchen.

Just when you were about to dig into your food, you felt something move at your feet. Placing your fork onto the table, you look down.

Akane was under the table, sniffing and eyeing the floor for something. Her head turned upwards, eyes wide with alert and causing you to flinch. The last thing you expected was to see the Gymnast in the dining hall, especially if she was so committed to starving herself.

"Akane?!" you cried out in confusion, standing up from your seat. "What are you doing?!"

Instead of answering you, she stretched out a boney arm towards the underside of your chair. You moved out of the way to see what she was grabbing onto. Once Akane had it, she grinned and carefully got out from beneath the table.

Standing to her full height, she showed it to you. "Lookin' for table scraps!" she answered cheerfully, popping a small piece of bread into her mouth. "Someone as strong as me can go back to full power with just this tiny hunka bread."

"O…kay?" You were quite startled with the Gymnast just being underneath the table like that. But, who were you to judge? It's not as if Akane was busy—

"Wait, aren't you working with Nekomaru and Fuyuhiko today? I doubt Scarface Jr. would let you slack off during such an important time."

Akane shrugged, picking at her ear in a languid manner, "That’s what I said. But, after four hours of lifting wood up and down the building, Baby Gansta said I should take a lunch break. 

' _Ah_ ,' you realized, ' _Akane must have been on the verge of passing out. Smart_.'

"That was a good move on Fuyuhiko's part," you said to her. "Wouldn't want to lose one of the strongest people we got to starvation. Not that you could lose, right?

Akane glared at you, "Are you implyin' that I'm weak?! Like I said, no one as strong as me could lose to somethin' so wimpy like fasting!"

You smirked, "Yeah, yeah. You're a despair-eating machine, I got it."

"And don’t ya forget it!"

"Anyways, wanna watch me eat?" you offered, taking your seat again. "I could use the company. And it would be absolutely despair-inducing to see me having a meal, right?" The Gymnast gave an eager nod at that.

"W-Well, I guess the Little Guy wouldn't mind," she replied almost timidly, taking a seat next to you. Close enough to smell the eggs and bread, close enough to practically taste it. A trail of saliva left Akane's lips as she eyed you eating your lunch, hunger gnawing at her gut.

In turn, you savored the despair she put herself in. It was nice to see how strong your friend was, how determined she was to follow Junko's ideals. Akane really did fit in with Ultimate Despair.

You put a forkful of egg into your mouth, chewing hungrily even as bits of the food left your mouth. The starved look on Akane was _so_ worth it. "So, you've got to tell me about your competition with Izuru!" you said through a mouthful of egg. "Did he really mop the floor with you?"

Akane groaned at the bitter stinging reminder of her defeat. "Ugh, don't remind me! Izuru was totally cheatin' because some of those Sixth Division bastards dogpiled me! It only took me a second to get rid of them and bash their heads in, but that was it took for that guy to gain the advantage. I'm telling ya, I should have earned at least triple points for fighting toe-to-toe with Juzo!"

At the reminder of the former Ultimate Boxer, you frowned. Juzo was an asshole, but according to Chisa he wasn't _all_ bad. Tough luck, you never saw any of that good the Housekeeper talked about. He was mean as shit, that's all you had to say.

"Wow, did you beat his ass?"

Akane snarled at your question, "You don't even gotta ask. All I can say was that Juzo was a _bitch_ to fight!"

You cackled at that, recalling your run-ins with the Boxer. He was always on your case about breaking curfew and running around campus. You were merely honing your talent like the academy encouraged, it wasn't your fault!

"I can see that!" you exclaimed. "Man, tough break though. I would have paid to see a competition between you and Izuru. It sucks that we're on a tight schedule though." You paused thoughtfully before a wicked grin spread on your lips. "Oh, wait! Maybe after the funeral you could compete with him!"

Akane scoffed, "If Izuru sticks around."

"Maybe," you answered, unable to find any reason for the Ultimate Hope to stay long. “You did challenge him and all during breakfast today. He might take you up on your offer just to put you in your place or something."

The Gymnast cracked her boney knuckles, the sound of joints popping crackling the air. "Sounds good to me! Just saying that it's 'boring' is a coward's excuse!!" she laughed, the sound grating your bones.

You took another piece of egg and bread, wanting to know more about Akane's activities as Ultimate Despair until you heard the door of the dining hall slam open.

"A-Ah, the-there you are!"

Mikan's timid voice fluttered in the air, causing you and Akane to turn your attention towards the Nurse. She seemed to be more flustered than usual, her one-size-too-small nurse's uniform clinging to her waddling form. With her red cheeks and teary eyes, you would have been struck at how adorable Mikan was.

But, you weren't the type to pursue women who were already in love with someone else.

"Mikan?" Akane raised a brow, sitting up straight at the Nurse's arrival. "Whatcha doing here? I thought you were busy with the body."

The Nurse turned teary-eyed at that, a bitter reminder about her Beloved's death bringing a wave of sadness and loss. "T-That's what I cam-came here for. I-I wanted to a-ask the Dire-Director if sh-she could len-lend a hand," she nervously asked, hands clasped together. "I-If you're fr-free, of-of course."

You mulled over her offer. Of course, you weren't free. There were still a lot of things you wanted to check on: Kazuichi's progress on the hijacking, the casket Peko was working on as well as Hiyoko and Ibuki's rehearsal. But, Junko's body was important. You couldn't forgive yourself if you presented your dear muse with a poor presentation at her funeral.

And besides, you left precise instructions for the Monokuma Robots and Soldiers while you were out.

You might lose the opportunity to bark your orders, but Junko was first priority.

"Yeah, I'm free. I left some detailed instructions to my production crew. But, uh…" You trailed off, trying to find the correct way to say what you were trying to say "Couldn’t you ask someone else?"

"U-Ummm," Mikan started uncomfortably, "W-Well, I-I know the oth-others are busy. A-And, it ma-may be presumptuous of me, b-but I thought you wou-would like to see my Beloved si-since you're directing he-her funeral…"

"I see. But, there's Nagito and Izuru. You could ask for their assistance."

At the mention of the two helping, Mikan's face turned angry, lips pulled back into a vicious and almost animalistic snarl. "Na-Nagito would di-disturb my Beloved the fir-first chance he-he gets. And Izu-Izuru doesn't follow her id-ideals, either. Neit-Neither of them are worthy to even look at Junko," she snapped.

You clicked your tongue, unable to find a contradiction in her argument. "Damn you, Mikan. You're right."

You hastily ate the last of your lunch, swallowing the remaining egg in a hurry. It was a miracle you didn't choke on your meal. Turning towards Akane, who was eyeing the scraps of bread on your empty plate, you said, "Hey, Akane, why don’tcha join us? Carrying materials around for Fuyuhiko has to be boring after doing it for hours on end."

Akane looked at you, visibly contemplating your offer before giving a wide grin, the edges of her lips cracking and showing skin.

"Sure! Sounds fun. I gotta pay my respects to the dead, anyways!"

* * *

Like the other floors of the building, the basement was structured in a similar fashion. Besides the room where you kept the recuperating Future Foundation agents, there were long winding halls that connected various rooms. Some used to keep cleaning supplies, a boiler room, the janitorial office, and a large empty room that could be used for a variety of purposes.

However, you never had the chance to look around the basement. You couldn’t afford to follow your curiosity and search for the True Ultimate Despair on your own. When Mikan presented you a chance to look at Junko's body, it seemed that Lady Luck was finally smiling down on you.

The Nurse easily led you and Akane towards your destination.

It seemed to be the largest room in the basement level and just as empty. Barren and desolate, there was nothing besides the refrigerator unit that Kazuichi built, a foldable surgeon's table, an IV drip, and a duffel bag that you assumed Mikan brought.

On the table, you saw Junko's body, cold and lifeless.

Curiously, you and Akane walked up to the body. Junko Enoshima was whole, decay barely touching her. Besides the loss of color, you would have thought she was still alive. Despite being out of the portable icebox Kazuichi built, the body retained the chill of death no amount of medicine could shake off.

She endured the Ultimate Punishment well and you could see the scorch marks on her legs and ugly dark purple bruises from where the baseballs struck her.

Draped over her was a pale blue sheet and it seemed that she was naked underneath. Junko looked so at peace in death as she had a smile on her face, which made you believe that Mikan had set her Beloved’s features. It was strange, though. The True Ultimate Despair would be _super_ bored with being dead! You didn't protest, however.

Another strange detail you noticed was that Junko's roots were red, not blonde.

You were simply amazed at how perfectly preserved the True Ultimate Despair was. Her despair must have been so strong that not even rot would touch her!

Upon seeing your muse on the cold table, you felt a whirlwind of emotions: angry at Makoto Naegi, anticipation for Junko's funeral, pity for Mikan, but most of all despair for how your muse has fallen. It was difficult to untangle the ball of emotions, which seemed to bounce against the walls of your stomach. Too bad, the former Ultimate Therapist was with the Future Foundation. 

You wanted to hurt someone, anyone to vent your loss. But, you had to keep a cool head because you were in charge of Junko’s funeral.

Grinding your teeth together to subdue yourself, you turned towards Mikan, who began sniffling.

' _Maybe Mikan also asked for help because she couldn’t handle preparing her Beloved's body without crying_ ,' you wondered. ' _I guess in her own way she's grieving over Junko. But, she can't do it alone._ '

"T-Thanks again, you two. For hel-helping me…" she stifled between sobs. "Th-There's many steps when it comes to em-embalming a body. Fo-for now, I need help mass-massaging to break rigor mortis. A-As you can see, I set my Beloved's expression and sanitized her as Fuyu-Fuyuhiko ordered."

Frowning in disgust, you asked her, "So me and Akane are gonna touch her body? Are you sure that's safe, we’re not medical professionals."

The Nurse teared up upon seeing your grimace, "T-That's true…But-but, I ju-just can't stan-stand the thought of some-someone who didn’t love my Beloved to-touching her…" Mikan choked on a sob, vainly trying to stop her tears before they started falling down her cheeks in large wet drops.

"Uwaaaah…I-I'm s-so sorry…I was be-being self-selfish."

It felt a bit awkward to be standing next to Junko Enoshima's body as Mikan sobbed. Biting back a sigh, you said to her in an even and friendly tone, "No problem, Mikan. Junko was important to us, too. And maybe you'll cheer up with the party we'll have tonight." If you wanted to calm the Nurse down, then you had to be her friend. Not her tormentor.

Akane followed up, smiling at Mikan. Despite the sweet gesture, the Gymnast looked like a skeleton than a trustworthy friend. "That's right, Mikan. You're always there when I need some fixin' up. The least I can do is stay by your side."

Mikan weakly nodded at your statements, still hiccupping.

"T-Thank you so much…"

The Nurse carefully unveiled Junko's body and you could see how stiff she was. The pale skin was marred by burn marks and bone jutted out at odd angles from where the baseball struck her. Back in your academy days, seeing such a mutilated body would have made you vomit on the spot. But, two years (going onto three!) as Ultimate Despair, you’ve caused your fair share of massacres.

Seeing Junko's body only phased you because it was…well, Junko.

Akane’s turned downcast at the sorry state Junko was in. "She's…torn apart…"

Mikan hiccupped, "I-I know! Ugh!" The Nurse bit her thumb, almost drawing blood. A look of pure rage formed on her face, a storm just waiting to rain down on the object of her anger. "Th-Tha-That! Bully! Makoto Naegi! I-I-I'll avenge my Beloved one day, I swear it! I swear it! I swear it! IswearitIswearitIswearit!"

You sighed. "As much as I want to skin that guy alive," you began, grabbing some gloves from her duffel bag. You grab a pair and toss it to Akane. "We need to finish our work." Despite sharing similar sentiments to Mikan and Akane, you were the Ultimate Film Director. You couldn't afford to lose yourself in emotions and make a mistake.

Controlling your storm of emotions, you said, "For now, let's focus on ourselves rather than that Makoto bastard. This is about Junko." Even if it was a subtle order to settle down and get to work, it didn’t seem that way to Mikan and Akane. Your statement was calming, placating the frustrating reminder of Junko's execution. Your tone was professional and detached yet there was underlying care you had for the True Ultimate Despair.

As the Ultimate Film Director, you had a way with people. Even if said people were the mentally unstable Remnants of Despair.

Akane exhaled a calming breath through her nose. She briefly turned away from Junko, hands on her hips. "You're right. If we're going to celebrate Junko's life, this stuff's gotta be done properly."

Mikan slowly nodded in agreement. "Y-Yes…W-We-Well, to mass-massage the body, you need to loosen up the major muscle groups and move the stiff joints," she explains to you and the Gymnast. The Nurse points at where you and Akane should start and with tentative hands began your grueling work.

Akane took Junko's abdominal area while you took the legs, which have been horribly burnt from Celeste's execution. With delicate hands, you began your massage on the True Ultimate Despair and Mikan started on Junko's thin arms.

The air was silent and heavy, only filled with grunted effort to work out Junko's stiff muscles.

Staring closely at Junko, touching her corpse sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t discern if you were disgusted, enthralled, or sad to be staring at your leader like this. Even if your emotions towards Junko were complicated (at best) or hateful (at worst), you still wanted the best for her.

Despite having an instinct that your feelings towards Junko were one-sided.

"Mikan, question," you called, though still continuing your work with the body.

The Nurse looked up at you. "W-What is it?"

"You’re not worried about Nagito following us and seeing Junko's body?" It was strange that you didn't feel the Luckster's presence behind the three of you. Was he too preoccupied with—

"Who cares about him?" Akane cuts in. "He's prolly too busy being Izuru's footstool."

That’s what you thought.

Lost in thought over your work and trying to find a suitable topic for conversation, Mikan suddenly got your attention. "D-D-Director, do-do you mind me asking a quest-question about the… _surprise_ you, Fuyuhiko, and So-Sonia have planned?"

You stopped in your work as Akane's gaze turned towards Mikan.

"The surprise?" the Gymnast asked.

You met Mikan's eye and saw something you didn't expect: despair and love all churned into one, a heated mixture that made you uncomfortably warm. Based on what Fuyuhiko told her to do, the Nurse probably had an idea on what you were planning for Junko’s body. You should have expected this, but it hardly mattered to you, It was only Sonia and Fuyuhiko that cared.

Even so, you were still curious about what part the Nurse would take from her Beloved.

Figuring that it wasn't your fault that Mikan figured it out, you gave a disappointed exhale."I guess the cat's outta the bag, kinda. Yup, whatever you want is free for the taking," you answered honestly. There was very little point in protecting the secret, but you kept things vague for Akane's sake. No matter how much you treasured the Gymnast, you doubted that Akane could keep a secret.

Mikan's fingers trembled, stopping their work on Junko's stiff elbow joints. A bright red blush appeared on her pale cheeks and her lips formed a shaky smile, "I-I-I-I see…" She struggled with the bomb of happiness that exploded in her stomach as you confirmed her suspicions, barely holding onto her voice. 

Akane glanced between you and Mikan, annoyance burning in her dark eyes. "I don't like bein' left outta the loop, y'know! If Mikan figured it out, why can'tcha tell me, huh?" she inquired you, her voice rising with rising anger.

Sometimes Akane was easy to deal with because of her simplistic nature. But, it was also because of how simple she was that made it difficult for you to calm her down. It wasn’t easy to lead Ultimates due to just how damn troublesome they were!

"Akane," you start, voice gentle with a tinge of concern. "It doesn't really matter, anyways. And it's nothing to worry about, either. In fact, it's so great and critical that the less people know about it, the better."

She glared at you, "Are you sayin' that I can't keep my mouth shut?" 

Mikan nervously glanced at you and the Gymnast, lips still and feeling how close Akane was to getting really angry. The Gymnast's expression sunken and boney still perfectly conveyed her growing anger and the desire to beat you at your own game. Akane's lips were narrowed, brows down and together.

' _I-I shouldn't have asked the Director about the surprise in front of Akane!_ ' Mikan thought regretfully, trying to find some way to diffuse the situation. However, the air seemed to grow heavier as your will battled with Akane's. There was no room for argument, no room for anyone besides you and the Gymnast.

Giving Akane a charming smile, you said, "Not all.” You took a tentative step forward, calm and controlled. You pretended like you were approaching an angry animal, but Akane was much more volatile during her time as Ultimate Despair. You had to appeal to her instincts as Junko’s followers. 

“This surprise is going to be fun for everyone. You don’t want to be the one that blabs about what we have planned, right? Secrecy and diligence is important to have Junko's funeral and when it succeeds, there's gonna be a whole new slew of fights waiting for you, Akane. If you’re patient, then everything will work out for you. Maybe you could even beat Izuru this time."

The Gymnast blinked at the last part of your statement. "You mean like the riots during the start of the Tragedy?" she asked, her tone…hungry. Excitement and bloodlust mixed together in Akane's grey eyes and deep within them you and Mikan could see despair. Eyes glowing a vivid red, Akane laughed, laughed, and laughed.

They came out as desperate wheezes, like a car refusing to start. "Ahaha…Hahaha…! Hahahahahaha! You're right, you're right, you're right! I'm not too good with secrets, but it doesn't matter! As long as there's more people to kill, as long as there's more despair, I'll live. I'll prove that I'm strong because I'm strong, strong, strong!!!" 

Her boisterous war cry intermingled with her harsh laughter, shaking the walls of the barren room. You swore that you even felt the surgeon's table shake. Your eyes burned like embers, relishing in your friend's despair-induced state. The desperation, the hunger, the way Akane tip-toed the line between life and death. It was just so good, so addicting and liberating that you could never stop not even if you wanted to.

Normally, you would feel bad for manipulating Akane like this…But, you enjoyed the sick thrill you felt over this.

Next to you, Mikan was grinning, an empty gesture that showed nothing but delight at her friend's misery. Junko's teachings and philosophy lived in each of them. Inside of you. Inside of Mikan. Inside of Akane. Inside of everyone in this building. 

And soon, Mikan would have another part of Junko inside of her, the ultimate proof of her love and devotion. ' _Everyone will have a part of my Beloved_ ,' the Nurse thought to herself, a line of saliva leaving her lips. _'Bu-But, I will be the only one to bear her child. Be-Because that's what people in love do! This-This was meant to be!'_

Despair was a sickness none of you wanted to be cured of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really just going with the original jpn version of who did what to junko's body. in this case, its mikan taking "something" out of junko's corprse! 
> 
> was this absolutely a filler chapter? Ofc it was! Turns out embalming a body takes a hella long time. Anyways, leave a comment and a heart if you like this chapter!  
> tumblr: https://erinin.tumblr.com/


	7. The Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for: Graphic description of violence! Since it's /that/ part of the story that I talked about since ch 2, it's pretty graphic.  
> Please read at your own discretion! 

Embalming Junko's body was quick work when you had the Ultimate Nurse on your side. By the time, you looked up from the body, it was already nighttime.

Mikan also notices this and glances at the clock fearfully. "O-Oh, it's already so late!" she cried out before carefully placing the sheet onto Junko's body. The Nurse turned towards you with an apologetic look.

"Um, I'll check on those Future Foundation agents and have everything ready by then, Director," Mikan informed you. "You can gather as many people as you for your…um, party."

You stared at her quizzically before finally remembering: you had two people in the basement! You've been so busy with the funeral that you must have forgotten.

"Ohh, yeah!" Akane exclaimed, coming to the same realization as yourself. "Let's go do that, Director! I bet Coach Nekomaru would love to come."

You nodded at her and looked at the clock. "I’ll check the dining hall. I think Fuyuhiko and Peko want to come and finish what they started. This fun little party wouldn't have happened in the first place if it weren't for them."

Akane grinned teasingly at you, seeing right through your façade. "You're still mad that one of them spit in your face. The more of us there, the more harsh his punishment is gonna be,” the Gymnast winked. 

"Psh!" you scoffed. "I'm not  _ that _ petty!"

You absolutely were that petty.

"We-Well, no mat-matter the reason, it's not nice to spit in your frien-friend's face!" Mikan protested, shaking her arms up and down as if throwing a childish tantrum. "Besides, my Beloved hated these people. So, I-I hate them, too. They're all just a bunch of bullies!"

Cleaning up Mikan's medical supplies, you beamed at the nurse. "Agreed! I mean, the Future Foundation is kinda useless and dysfunctional. For all the  _ platitudes _ they spout about hope, they don’t even realize that there’s a mole.” 

Akane gathered the used gloves, placing them into a bin in the corner. "Ugh! Don't say that word, 'platitudes'! I heard enough of that from all the Future Foundation propaganda. Isn't that Munakata's favorite word or something?"

Mikan gave a nervous chuckle, tucking away the IV tube and wrapping it around the stand. You were right on some points about your views on the Future Foundation. It was fact that the Future Foundation was aiming to rebuild the world from The Tragedy, but their methods were less than peaceful.

The Nurse could understand if the Foundation was just dealing with Remnants. But, even those suspected of being affiliated with Ultimate Despair were treated with cruelty.

"Pr-Probably," Mikan added with a slight nod. "Chi-Chisa did say that Mun-Munakata used that wor-word often in a call once with me"

You smirked and helped Mikan put away the IV stand, the metallic pole now shining in a dark corner of the room. "Still, I'm glad that Chisa is acting as the mole. I didn't think that a Housekeeper can be such an effective spy."

"That’s why she's the head of the Fifth Division," the Gymnast speaks up. She turns towards you, remembering something. "Actually…isn't your…brother in the Fifth Division?"

You stopped in your tracks and turned towards Akane. From the dim corner of the room, the Gymnast noticed how hot and intense your eyes were glowing. They looked like burning fire pokers against the black. Despite your heated stare, it felt like the room went a few degrees colder.

"Yeah," you answered. Your tone lost all its merry and cheer and was instead cold and tight. It was as if you were restraining yourself when Hikaru was brought up. It was a sensitive subject, but the look of absolute despair was too enticing for Akane to stop.

Smirking maliciously, the Gymnast continued to prod at you. "Ya know, I always thought it was strange that you didn't kill your family like us. To be starved of a great despair of killing your mom, dad, and brother…" Akane trailed off, pity laced in her rough voice.

"When I burned my siblings alive, I thought I could live forever off the despair they felt, the despair _ I _ felt," the Gymnast breathed out, almost drooling. Her eyes seemed far away, gazing into space as she recalled that fateful day.

The warmth of the memory brought a pleasant sensation to Akane's skin and her eyes glowed a faint red. "…It musta suck to be deprived of that kind of despair.” 

You bit back a retort, teeth grinding together. Akane was right. The day that Junko told you to spare your family, your heart almost broke. But, it couldn’t be helped. Hikaru was part of the Killing School Life, after all. So, you were treated differently by Junko and the others. Well, it hardly mattered since your leader was dead and gone. There was no one to stop you now. 

"A-Anyways, A-Ak-Akane, pardon the inte-interuption, but we really should be go-going. We sho-shouldn't keep the others are wait-waiting…"

The Gymnast glanced at her before sighing, "…I guess you're right. C'mon, let's get ready. I've been wanting to try this suicide dive with one of them."

"Eeeehh?!" Mikan cried out, a look of absolute shock on her pale face. "I-I don't think that ei-either one of them can wit-withstanding such a move…"

"Ditto," you commented, your former chipper atmosphere returning. "Before you outright kill them, Akane, you gotta let us have some fun. I mean, you can suicide dive them towards the end, but be a little mindful. It's not everyday we can torture Future Foundation agents, they're a rare treat."

They Gymnast winced at your scolding. "Ugh, fine, fine. Why do you have to suck the fun out of everything?"

Before leaving the room, you turned towards Akane, remembering something important. "Akane, if you're going up, can you get something from my office on the third floor?"

* * *

You and Akane separated from Mikan, who went to prepare the agents for their party.

On the main floor, Akane took the elevator up to the fourth floor, where she saw Nekomaru last. Giving the Gymnast your brief farewells, you went into the dining hall kitchen to ask Teruteru if he wanted to join the party. 

"Non non!" he rejected without looking up from a large roast that he was marinating. You felt your mouth salivate at the sight of it, rosemary tied tightly to it with string and the smell of savory spices mingled in the air. It was a blessed change from the antiseptic and embalming fluid that engulfed you in the basement. 

"I have a ton of work to do for the feast," Teruteru explained. "Trial and error is what makes art art."

You couldn't disagree with him there. "Fine," you shrugged. "Do you want whatever's left of those two?"

He clicked his tongue, now moving to the opposite end of the kitchen to stir a pot of a creamy and rich broth. You spied chicken and vegetables in there, the delicious scent bringing a line of drool to leave your lips. The Chef swiftly closed the lid, not wanting the flavor to escape or something.

Teruteru thought to himself for a brief moment before finally shaking his head, hair swinging. “No, that's alright. It's a known fact that fear makes the meat taste horrible. Something to do with the lactic acid in the cells.”

* * *

Upon entering the main hall again, you heard the ding of an elevator and turned your attention there. The metal doors slid open and Akane jumped out, flanked by some of your fellow Remnants.

Kazuichi.

Hiyoko.

Peko. 

Fuyuhiko.

"The Coach passed on the party tonight. Said something about developing a training menu for his team back at his hideout. I met Kazuichi and Hiyoko while I was comin' down here." The Gymnast smirked impishly at Hiyoko and nudged her with a sharp elbow. 

"I think Hiyoko was hoping to get a formal invite from you, Director!"

The Dancer blushed at this, glaring at Akane. "That’s _ so _ not it, you dolt!" she protested. "Unlike Ibuki, I know how to take breaks. Besides, this torture party thing might give me some inspiration on the dance I wanna do for Big Sis Junko's funeral."

For some reason, you didn't believe Hiyoko.

"Those agents were originally mine and Peko's prey," the Yakuza spoke up calmly, arms crossed. "It's only natural that both of us attend. I call the finishing blow."

Akane sharply turned towards him, "Nuh-uh! The Director promised that I could do that with my new and improved Suicide Dive move!"

You raised your hand in objection, "I never promised that!”

You turned towards Kazuichi, who was sporting a heavy looking dark bag and something strapped to his back. It was navy blue in color and looked unlike the bamboo sword bag that Peko used to don in her school days, but there was a distinct black oil stain at the bottom of it.

"Whatcha got there, Kazuichi?" you pointed at the blue bag. He glanced at the bag and grinned, shark-like teeth gleaming with malice.

"Oh this?" He knelt down and zipped open the top half of the bag. Inside was…

Hiyoko spoke, her brow raised in obvious confusion, "A chainsaw…"

"Sword?" Peko finished.

It was shaped like a sword, not like Peko's, and you could see the steel-grey of the dangerous looking teeth of the saw. The handle was a bright red, similar to Monokuma's right eye and there was a switch at the end of the pommel that was just _ begging _ to be pushed.

I call dibs!" you shouted eagerly, bouncing on the balls of your feet. "I call dibs! I call dibs! I call dibs! I call dibs!" Nearly jumping at the awesome weapon, Kazuichi quickly zipped it up.

"No way," he rejected. "My invention, my rules. I was gonna test this puppy out on one of them."

"Geez, were you this stingy before? What happened to sharing is caring?"

"I don't care."

"Let's stop chattering and let's head to the basement, " Fuyuhiko ordered, foot tapping against the tile. "Even though there's just two of them, we're gonna be taking turns on those dipshits."

He looked up at you, "Director, you're all set?"

You beamed at him, "Yup."

Looking at Akane, you asked her, "Did you get the thing that I asked you for?" Underneath her skinny arm was a black bag, which held your tripod and a video camera you brought with you from your hideout. After receiving the item, you shared a wicked look with Fuyuhiko, who instantly understood your intentions.

"You're one sick broad."

"I've been called worse."

* * *

Eagerly heading towards the basement with the others, you suddenly stopped when you noticed a dark figure at the front of the room where the agents were held. 

"So slow."

Fuyuhiko stepped forwards, obviously confused and annoyed at Izuru's sudden appearance. "What the hell are you doin' here? I thought you’re too good for a torture party," he sad to him, eyeing the Ultimate Hope wearily.

"And where's Nagito?" Kazuichi quipped while pointing an accusatory figure at the dark-haired man.

"I merely told him that I was going to the basement for the party that the Director planned. He protested about me spending time with all of you before he went back to his dorm room."

You stared at him, wondering how Izuru of all people managed to treat Nagito the nicest out of all of them. 

"Hm," you hummed. "I see…Uh, I guess the more the merrier! It's not like any of us can stop Izuru, anyways!"

Fuyuhiko sighed, yielding to your words. You were right (again). This was a party, after all. "Fine, fine, let's hurry up while the night is young!" he urged, opening the heavy metal door with a sound that rattled your bones.

Inside, Mikan was just done prepping the Future Foundation agents, the artificial lights casting a sickly bright yellow glow over everything.

The Nurse beamed at your arrival with your classmates, "T-There you are!" She blinked owlishly at the arrival of the others. "W-Wow…a bi-bigger turnout than I-I expected."

Both agents were covered in gauze and bandages, looking more like mummies than proud agents of the foundation. They were tightly bound to their chairs, helpless in front of you and the other Remnants of Despair, the fibers digging into their skin and rubbing it raw.

At the sight of you, the male agent gasped, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets at your arrival. Both he and the female agent felt their faces lose color as the other Remnants flooded through the door, tears pricking at their eyes.

He counted his prayers, said goodbye to all his friends at the Future Foundation as Mikan prepped him. He glanced at his partner and she met his eyes. They exchanged a look, one filled with such profound sadness that it conveyed all that they wanted to say. She blinked back, accepting and understanding that this was the day that they were going to die.

Noticing this, you stepped forwards with an eager grin. "Before everything gets started, can you give me your names? I like to know my cast members since I'm a real hands-on boss."

"Just get this started already," he urged, face steely. The man was putting on a brave face despite the intense fear and despair he felt. All the training in the world didn’t prepare him on how to handle being in a hideout out with Remnants. All he had to rely on was a courage he tried to feel and the knowledge that, at least, he wouldn’t die alone. 

Izuru stepped towards the pair and with one quick motion stole something from their breast pockets. In his hands was a pair of black leather ID holders. 

He opened them up. "Fumiko Miyao and Ren Matsumura. They're both from the Fifth Division."

A lightbulb went off in your head. 

You gave a broad smile and hastily took out your tripod and camera from the bag, excitement hurrying your movements. "Well, Fumiko and Ren! Tonight's your lucky night cuz after this, you're gonna be a star!" you laughed, situating the camera onto the tripod and clicking it on. The red light blinked.

"Anyways, I'm sure everyone brought their own tools," you commented childishly, grabbing a large tactical knife from the torture wall on the back of the room.

Fuyuhiko, a gun from a holster at his waist. 

Hiyoko, a dagger from her sleeves.

Kazuichi, a wrench from his pockets. 

And Peko, her sword from her hip. 

Mikan opened her duffel bag, showing off various medical instruments that shone in the yellow light. She delicately picked up a surgical scalpel, the silver metal shining dangerously . 

It was only Akane and Izuru that lacked anything.

Akane cracked her knuckles while grinning, a sure sign that her choice of weapon were her fists. Izuru...Well. There were tools on the wall, he could make do with that.

You looked at him, eyes flaring red with a soft smile playing on your lips. "Who sent you guys to Hope's Peak Academy?" Ren paused at your question, torso relaxing.

"What?"

"Tell me."

He stared into your face, still perplexed. But, the more Ren thought, the clearer it became. It was Chisa, of course. The Fifth Division specialized in inquiry, espionage, and intelligence. Fumiko and Ren were only there to investigate Ultimate Despair's movements as per Chisa’s orders. In order to maintain cover, she thought it was best to only send two —

Your smile slowly grew as the despair set in on Ren's face, relishing in his misery from the bottom of your heart.

"Biiiiingo."

"S-She…set us up?"

You blinked before laughing, turning towards Fuyuhiko and the others. Sick and demented smiles formed on your classmates' faces. You clapped for them, "Yup! Chisa Yukizome is a wonderful little mole!"

Fumiko choked, tugging against the restraints. Her lips trembled with the effort to speak. "Y-You're lying!!!" she screamed. "There's no way someone like Branch Leader Yukizome is Ultimate Despair!"

Izuru stared down at her, arrogance clear in his crimson irises. "It was obvious," he said to Fumiko. His deep baritone echoed in the room, resolute in what was being spoken. "She's the closest to Kyousuke Munakata and she was the one that botched many of his raids on the Ultimate Despair cells around Japan."

Kazuichi laughed, the high pitches of the sounds striking at your core. "Don't tell me you fell for her signature crocodile tears?" he inquired sarcastically, mouth upturned in a wide terrifying smile. 

"And Munakata's desperation to 'eradicate despair'?" Hiyoko air-quoted, a childish yet malicious grin on her face. "Everyone in the Future Foundation must be an idiot not to notice how unhealthy that mindset is."

Peko chuckled in amusement. "Your organization was played by a Remnant of Despair…How pitiful. Everything you worked for has been for naught."

Ren struggled against his bindings as you loomed over him with that ever-present shit-eating smirk on your face. You were enjoying this. Everyone was enjoying this.

It must have been your talent as the Ultimate Film Director.

You knew your audience and you knew how to deliver the finest entertainment possible. 

Ren glared at you, hate burning in his eyes, wishing for all the calamities on the world to befall on your and your organization. "You're all going to burn in hell…" he muttered, voice filled with nothing but poisonous malice so thick that you could drown in it.

You ignored him completely, smile unwavering as you harshly plunged the knife into his stomach and began twisting it. He screamed, the sound rattling the cement walls of the room. After a few satisfying churns, you ripped the weapon out of him, Ren's blood splashing across your face.

Fumiko yelled, voice tight with terror as she began to thrash around in her chair and pulled against her bindings. "Stop! Stop! Stoooop!" Tears streamed down her face but Peko immediately hit her with the hilt of her sword. 

"Shut up," she growled.

Fumiko sniffled, quiet whimpers at her captors. The atmosphere in the room was rapidly rising to a dangerous degree. You had to exact your pound of flesh before the others got antsy. Turning towards Izuru, your eyes blazing a fiery red, you asked, "Izuru, can you give me a hand and pry open this guy's mouth?"

It became horrifyingly clear what you aimed to do.

Izuru looked at you curiously, but decided to go with it. The dark haired man pressed his hand firmly on Ren's cheeks, popping his mouth open and began screaming loudly. You gave the man a flick on the forehead.

"Oh, be quiet, you big baby." Your fingers plunged into his mouth, grabbing onto Ren’s squirming tongue. 

His tongue wiggled, trying to get out of your fingers, but your nails dug into him painfully. Bringing the knife on the side of the red appendage, you gave one quick and precise slash to sever it. Sometimes being quick and clinical meant less mess. And you were all about being clean.

An arc of blood splattered onto your chest and face as well as Izuru's sleeves. You let out a wheezing laugh and wiped the blood that landed near your eye. 

Fumiko sobbed and coughed and retched, eyes shut in terror as Ren convulsed against his chair and ichor formed a puddle on his body and the floor. There was a distinct look in his eyes, an emptiness you often found in victims of the Tragedy. You carelessly tossed the tongue onto the table, the flesh landing with a wet plop.

"Not exactly a pound of flesh," you chuckled, wiping the spit and blood onto your pants. "But, it'll do."

Izuru let go out of Ren's head, letting it droop into his lap and blood pooled onto his dark trousers. Your brow quirked in confusion at this as Izuru stood near a wall. As if to answer your unspoken question, he said, "I'm not here to inflict boring meaningless violence onto these people."

The Yakuza glared at him. "Why  _ are _ you here, then?"

Izuru didn't answer, instead giving him an icy silence. Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes.

You give Fuyuhiko a shrug, locking eyes with each other. You both shared the same sentiment on Izuru's dismissive behavior.  _ Whatever _ .

"Go nuts, you guys."

As if on your command, the rest of the Remnants of Despair went towards Fumiko and Ren. Hiyoko, Mikan, and Peko went towards the female agent slowly, poised like cobras ready to strike. By the time she gathered herself together, Fumiko's still streamed down her face in wet trails. However, there was a defiant look in her eyes as she watched the three come closer to her.

Akane joined your side to the still breathing Ren along with Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko. 

The room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. 

It was Hiyoko that took the first strike, a signal to the others to begin. The Dancer brought her dagger to slice across Fumiko's arm with quick yet elegant grace. Fumiko didn't even have time to gasp before Peko stabbed at her shallowly with her sword, just enough to cause an intense sensation of pain. Yet not enough to kill her. 

Fumiko choked from the pain of it all, desperate not to let despair and fear overtake her body. Despite the hopeless situation that they were in, she was never going to give the Remnants what they wanted even if it cost her life. Resolved, Fumiko took in each stab and cut with a brave face, determined not to give into despair. She had to do it for herself and Ren. 

"Haha!" Hiyoko laughed, blood dirtying her  _ kimono _ . "This is way beeeetter than crushing Mr. Ants!" She punctuated the last sentence by driving her dagger into Fumiko's thigh, the blade going cutting the cotton like a hot knife through butter.

Fumiko bit her lip hard, swallowing down the scream of pain that threatened to rip itself from her throat. She wasn't going to lose, not to the Remnants of Despair. The agent let the blood drip from her lip and kept her gaze clear and focused, unwavering. 

Mikan giggled at Fumiko's defiance, dragging her scalpel across Fumiko’s stomach to form shallow yet long cuts. "Hehe! Be sure not to hit any major arteries, everyone!"

Her warning went unheard in your ears as you joined in on Ren's assault. It was a blur of depravity and despair, making you unable to differentiate who was who. Blood and despair mixed in the air, making you feel drunk on the tantalizing mixture. Your heart pounded and the blood rushed in your ears, warming your entire body with a pleasant sensation. 

This was pure, undesirable violence. No rhyme, rhythm, or reason could describe the despair your group has thrown yourself in. The room was a cacophony of laughter, flesh, and screaming, making you lose sight as to who you were. You weren't yourself, you were just a part of Ultimate Despair. Nothing more nothing less. You jab the knife into Ren's hand and hear the sickening crack of the man's skull against Kazuichi's wrench. A few moments later you watched as Fuyuhiko's gun slammed against Ren's ribs. The male agent gasped in pain, bones cracking. 

Akane's fists were a blur of rapid punches, so fast that you could hardly count how many times she struck. Her grunts of focus and power formed a steady song that you held yourself onto, using the Gymnast to steady your uncoordinated limbs. 

Crowding around Ren, you could only leave shallow yet long cuts along his dark uniform, flicking the knife upwards to leave a harsh trace against his torn skin, too absorbed in the heat of his pain to even care what kind of injuries you were inflicting. The taste of despair formed on your taste buds mingled with the scent of blood that covered your body and clothes, forming a horrible mixture that would have made anyone sick to their stomach

But, now drunk with despair, you couldn't careless about your clothes. 

It may have been minutes or it may have been hours. Time had no meaning when it came to this. It was only when Ren stopped breathing did you find yourself at the end of your party.

By the time you looked up, your classmates were covered in blood. Their eyes glowed the same hue as the ichor that you were drenched in, burning vividly in the dim light of the room. Your breaths came out hot and heavy, tired from the physical activity.

You glanced at Izuru, who passively watched the entire activity. His own red eyes locked with yours.  _ Boring _ .

Hiyoko and the others stopped, just as bloody as the rest of you. The Dancer gave you a quizzical look. Even if Fumiko’s blood clung to her like a second skin, Hiyoko still managed to look beautiful. She didn’t look out of breath at all. As the Ultimate Traditional Dancer, maybe Hiyoko had more stamina.

"Why'd you guys stop?" she asked with a childish pout.

"Guy's dead," Fuyuhiko informed her, wiping away the blood from his lips. He still felt it on the tip of his tongue, a familiar metallic aftertaste.

"Sucks to be you, then," Hiyoko dismissed with a sneer. 

Briefly distracted by the sudden calm, your attention turned towards Fumiko, who was left barely alive from her assault with your fellow Remnants.

Brutalized was an understatement.

Fumiko's suit was reduced to tatters, leaving nothing to imagination. Cuts, bruises, and holes marked her skin like an ugly menagerie for you to see. Her head dropped low, face towards her lap and shoulders trembling from the trauma and pain.

She seemed to be muttering something, but her voice was too low for any of you to hear.

"Speak up. If you are begging for your life, you should know now that it's futile," Peko scowled, voice resolute. The Swordwoman's suit was now more red than white, making her appear more intimidating than usual. Peko used the tip of her weapon to tilt Fumiko's head upwards. You had expected tears and snot to be streaming down the poor woman's face. 

Instead, there was a blaze of defiance lighting up her eyes. A small, somewhat delirious, smile played at her thin lips as she spoke.

"…you…"

She trailed off and Kazuichi came closer, leaning his ear downwards and straining to hear her. His face and hair were caked in blood, making him appear messier than he usually was.

"What was that?"

She coughed, wheezing as she struggled to get the words out. "I…feel sorry for all…of you…"

The words stunned everyone in the room for a brief moment before Hiyoko spoke first. "You're not in the position to be saying that, you weak little bitch," she spat out, eyes narrowed with nothing short of hatred. 

Fumiko gurgled before spitting a wallop of blood onto the floor. Thankfully, it didn't land near anyone.

"Y-You're all monsters…" Fumiko cursed herself from stuttering, both from her injuries and the fear embedded deep in her soul. "Failures, disgraces, disappointments to humanity." You listened intently, knowing this speech from before from some of your previous victims.

It was always the same, a last act of bravado before they winked out of existence. However, these dying words were always fun to listen to, so you stayed silent and let her continue.

"C-Chisa may have betr-betrayed the foundation, but I can at least die…knowing that me and Ren. We're better than all of you. My friends and co-workers will mourn us. Who will miss any of you when you're gone?"

No one answered, didn't have the guts to answer. Everyone in the room, including you, already knew the answer.

You knew deep down that Fumiko was right. But, you didn't care. You didn't care. You didn't care. You didn't care. You didn't care. 

"Every single one of you killed…everything and everyone you ever loved. Every member of Ultimate Despair. Will die alone and in their own misery. You're nothing, you're but a hedonistic death cult…that was used and abused. By Junko Enoshima."

Maybe Fumiko was right. Was your entire group that just blindly worshipped the True Ultimate Despair? Probably. No one knew the true Junko Enoshima, not even your classmates. However, you just couldn’t bring yourself to care about that. 

You were too deep in despair to care about anything! 

You felt free and powerful with this despair, like nothing ever mattered. The only thing that mattered was how much misery you can bring to people, how much despair you could create for yourself. The wonderful feeling of not caring, of total and utter freedom was what Junko preached about. And after tasting such a bitter despair, there was no turning back for you. 

You. Just. Didn't. Care.

A laugh began quietly in the room as Fumiko finished her speech, starting off quiet before exploding into a full-blown fit. It echoed cruelly through the walls, long and hard. You were the one laughing.

Shoulders quaking from the fit of laughter, you pointed at Fumiko. "So? You think I became Ultimate Despair without reading the job description? I knew full well what I was doing when I chose to follow Junko," you said, biting your lip to stifle your chuckles.

"I might be a monster, but I'll have fun being one till the day I die."

Mikan slowly walked up to the bleeding Fumiko, gently wrapping her arms around the agent's neck from behind. Contrary to your expectations, the Nurse wasn't screaming and ranting at Fumiko. Rather she was giving Fumiko a tender embrace, a look of pity in her dark eyes.

"That’s right. What you said may be true to _ some _ people." Mikan cast a deliberate glance at Izuru, obviously jabbing at him. "But, we're different from those…peons on the ground. My Beloved was the only one who loved and forgave me."

Peko stepped forward into the light, eyes narrowed threateningly at Fumiko. "She freed me."

"Big Sis Junko was my friend."

"Junko Enoshima gave us the world."

"She was the only one that was there for me."

"Junko made me stronger than I've ever been."

"Junko Enoshima is my wonderful muse."

Fumiko stared at all of you, face contorted with pity and sorrow at what all you've become. She was stunned into silence before her lips moved slowly, "You’re all terrible. I almost. Feel sorry for all of you."

Fuyuhiko took a bold step forward and you could see the sweat bead down Fumiko's face. The Yakuza loomed over her like a grim titan, eyes glow red from the dark brim of his hat.

"Mikan, let me borrow your scalpel," he said to the Nurse, gloved hand outstretched. She made a soft sound of surprise, but nodded and dug into her pockets for a scalpel. Fuyuhiko took it gratefully and looked down at the now-weary Fumiko.

With a singular precise movement, the Yakuza cut from the top of her eyebrow to the base of her cheekbone. Fumiko barely had time to scream before he made another clean diagonal cut, forming a nearly perfect cross on her eye. Fuyuhiko, ever the gentleman, wiped the scalpel clean and handed it back to Mikan, who was transfixed by the Yakuza's merciless actions.

Underneath the sheen of blood, Mikan's complexion was a bright red, the fog of arousal in her eyes. "A-A-A-Are you gonna do it, Fuyuhiko?" Her inquiry sounded like a moan, intoxicated with pleasure and anticipation. She trembled as Fuyuhiko cast her a cold look, one that answered her question. Mikan yelped as if harshly punished, turning darker if that was somehow even possible.

Discreetly, you moved the camera to focus on Fumiko and Fuyuhiko, ready to tape the action.

To stop her thrashing, Fuyuhiko forcefully grabbed her jaw and drove his gloved fingers into her eye socket. From an outsider's perspective, it looked clean and exact as if Fuyuhiko was looking through battle reports or planning his next assault on the Future Foundation. Yet, there was something hot and loose and raging inside of him.

Fuyuhiko pulled out her eyeball, leaving a gory trail in its wake, blood gushing over the agent's face. Fumiko gave an unholy shriek, almost rattling the entire building.

The other Remnants were transfixed, as were you, at this. Your cheeks heated up in excitement and felt a pleasurable tingle on your skin at the sight of Fumiko's eyeball.

He flicked the organ into a dark corner of the room without remorse. Fumiko began to babble in pain and terror, her former resolve melting away like candle wax. 

"You don't even _ know _ us," the Yakuza started, his voice somehow louder than her howling. He ripped off his bloodied gloves and threw them onto the cold ground. "So, don't start talking as if you know. When we killed our families, every single one of us knew what we were doing."

He turned away from the whimpering Fumiko. "Experience the despair I feel before you even _ think _ about talking shit."

* * *

By the time you left the basement room, everyone was covered in blood. Thankfully, your camera was spared from the massacre and took video of the party with crystal clear focus. Smiling, you previewed the video and reminded yourself to edit it into a CD to share it to the others that missed out.

Izuru was the last one to leave the room. His suit was splattered with arcs of blood and some even smeared his pale cheeks, but the Ultimate Hope was more or less untouched by the carnage. The others were already approaching the basement exit, however you trailed behind with Izuru due to how heavy your camera and tripod was

You vaguely thought of Carrie as your classmates began chatting about what was going to be for dinner. 

Walking by Izuru’s side, you noted that there was something different with the Ultimate Hope. It wasn’t an outward change, but there was something…off about him.

"Uh…you okay there, bud?" you asked, awkwardly.

You weren't friends with Izuru. Hell, he creeped you out most of the time with how perfectly he did everything. But, since Izuru was part of Ultimate Despair, you couldn't help but feel a little concerned over your peer.

He looked down at you, his hefty red gaze making you feel as if you were sinking into the earth. Even so, you held yourself together and listened to Izuru.

"Fumiko Miyao should have died from her wounds."

"Yeah?"

“But, she didn't," Izuru stated. It was so obvious that you wanted to retort to the young man yet held your tongue. "She held on long enough to voice her thoughts on Ultimate Despair. It was her desire to cling to life long enough to criticize your actions."

You had an inkling of what Izuru was saying and with a confused, unsure expression you inquired, "You're saying that it was her hope that made her live longer than expected?"

He nods.

You eyed him suspiciously. "Don't tell me you're gonna finally live up to your Ultimate Title and fight against us?" You scanned for any signs of betrayal from Izuru yet his stoic expression showed nothing to prove your suspicions.

"Of course not. I was merely amused for a few moments."

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Izuru's cryptic answer, you asked, "Amused about what?"

"I didn't expect the Yakuza to gouge out her eye. I predicted that the Nurse would have reacted violently first due to her love and devotion towards Junko Enoshima. Fuyuhiko, as dedicated as he is, always had his doubts about the True Ultimate Despair."

Izuru was right. In the early days of the Tragedy, you could tell that Fuyuhiko was hesitant to participate. Despite the despair he's tasted, he strangely held onto his morals. It was only after he killed his parents did he start acting like a proper member of Ultimate Despair.

"I think I get it…" you commented, still unsure. "You doubted Fuyuhiko's loyalty towards Junko and didn't expect him to react so harshly."

His silence was enough of an answer. A Cheshire Cat grin appeared on your face as you came a smidge closer to Izuru. "It was despair, Izuru. What better way to taste your own misery than by dedicating your entire being to someone that treats you like trash yet gave you everything?"

Izuru looks down at you. "Your logic doesn't make sense."

"Haha! It doesn't have to make sense!" you laughed, twirling on your heels. "That's what makes this entire situation despair-inducingly tragic!"

The Ultimate Hope mulled over your words, watching as you left his side to walk beside Mikan. No matter how much he tried to untangle your argument, it didn't make sense. Hell, most of the things the Remnants did never made sense.

But, he couldn’t deny the light of hope that made Fumiko endure her assault. It was that hope that allowed her to stay strong in the face of despair. It was the conflict she brought that made this party worth attending.

_ 'How interesting…' _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, 6k words of this monstrosity and never again!!! i'm so sorry for the graphic violence, but my little edgy teenager came out. 
> 
> gonna get the plot moving real soon. 
> 
> tumblr: https://erinin.tumblr.com/


	8. The Tyrant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: hanging

Breakfast with the Remnants was, as usual, noisy. A pleasant and daily exchange of banter, which was even louder than usual because of the party you had last night.

Sandwiched between Kazuichi and Akane, you were eagerly chatting away about your get-together with everyone. The details were hazy and the story differed between the party-goers. It seemed that everyone was drunk in despair, minus the nasty hangover.

"And then, Fuyuhiko was like…" You covered half your face, recalling the infamous Dio Brando pose that Junko ripped off. "'Experience the despair I feel before you even _think_ about talking shit.'" Ibuki roared in laughter, slapping the table with her hand and face turned upwards to the ceiling.

With tear-filled eyes, the Musician pointed at Fuyuhiko and asked uproariously, "Did you really say that?!Everyone in the room musta been drooling from such a badass line!" She began laughing again, cradling her stomach as it began to cramp with pain.

Fuyuhiko glared at you, "I did not make do a Dio Brando, you moron! Stop lying!"

You chuckled, trying to hold back the full force of your own laughter. "You might as well have. That edgy little line suits you!"

"Why, you…!"

"Now, now," Teruteru chimed from his end of the table. Rather than the luxurious breakfast of French toast, crepes, and omelets, the Chef had a plot of rotting garbage in front of him. Even from your position, you could smell the earthy scent of rotting fruit and molding bread.

He continued as if his meal wasn't a spoiled mess of food from the kitchen garbage. "Happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast."

Fuyuhiko calmed down, sitting back down. He angrily sipped his black coffee, looking like an angry kitten than the deadly Ultimate Yakuza. You continued to speak, your motormouth paying no heed to Fuyuhiko’s anger. 

"Anyways, if any of you guys want to see what happened, I can make a few CDs since the funeral venue is pretty much done," you offered while smugly smiling, proud over getting your work done early.

Ibuki, Teruteru, and Nekomaru instantly raised their hands.

"Ibuki wished she coulda come! It sounded super awesome. Maybe…Just maybe that party will be the inspiration for my next hit single!"

"The image of you guys, especially the Director, covered in blood sounds absolutely sexy! I just _must_ have that on video!"

"SOUUUNDS GOOD! This could also be a good training video for my guys back home!” 

You mentally took in their orders, but reminded yourself to edit your bloody self from Teruteru's copy. "Your wish is my command," you joked.

Fuyuhiko’s head shot up from his breakfast plate, golden eyes wide as he remembered something. "Oh!" he exclaimed softly. "That reminds me! I just received some footage from Sonia's tour around Europe. She and the Imposter caused a big stir over there."

Next to you, Kazuichi stiffened his seat. Nagito noticed this as well, intently watching your reaction. The last time you spoke with the Mechanic, you had intentionally poked the bear and relished the despair of your beloved classmates. It was like watching a mirror.

If Nagito had the courage to interact with his classmates, would he act similarly to you? You understood him, slightly. And he understood you, slightly. If Nagito was a proper Remnant that fought firmly on the side of despair, would be more or less like you?

Would you poke and prod Kazuichi for the despair of it?

A ghost of a smile formed on your lips, a plan already forming in your head. It wouldn't do you any good to tease the Mechanic, now. You would have to wait until Sonia came over.

Much to Nagito's surprise, you laughed innocently and directed a question to Fuyuhiko. "Oh, Queen Sonia's world famous executions! They sell out fast from what I've heard."

Sonia lacked any of the sophisticated execution machines used in the Killing School Life. But, Kazuichi did have some of the prototypes of those machines. It was quite a scene to see ten people, stacked on top each other, and get their heads chopped off with a ridiculously tall guillotine. You had personally saved that video on your computer back home.

You had collaborated with Sonia and Mahiru on a few occasions, spreading propaganda for the Novoselic people and had, more or less, convinced a few officials to join Ultimate Despair. It was no easy task, but politicians were almost the same: greed and power was enough of a motive to join the winning side.

He smirked. "Yup, actually she, Mahiru, and the Imposter have been busy with that for the past few weeks. Ever since Junko died, there’s been fighting everywhere, trying to overthrow the Princess. But, they weren’t worth _jack-shit._ ” An evil grin spread on Fuyuhiko’s face. “Novoselic and supporters for Ultimate Despair easily crushed those bastards. And to make sure that no one tries the same stunt, Sonia and the others have been broadcasting executions left and right.” 

Fuyuhiko neglected to say 'what was left of Novoselic'. It was a well-known fact that Sonia had dedicated her homeland's resources for the Tragedy, making it a husk of what it used to be. Despite this, Sonia's influence and charisma proved useful and continued to be a driving force for the Remnants.

"Anyways, I thought it would be fun to see Her Majesty. She claimed a new record on how many lives she snuffed out last week."

As if sensing everyone's excitement, Fuyuhiko continued with a malicious smirk as if he was accepting a challenge from Sonia, herself. He turned towards Peko, both their eyes glinting in the morning light. “Peko, we’ve gotta beat her record.” 

* * *

All the Remnants of Despair filed into the president's suite, most seated on the long couch in front of the flat screen TV. You were on the edge with your left arm on the rest, Nagito at your side. Izuru was on the far side of the room, sitting on a smaller leather chair. You were surprised to see the Ultimate Hope following your group. But, when he took a seat far away from the rest of your group, you found yourself sitting next to Nagito at the edge of the right side of the couch. 

You stuffed a mouthful of popcorn in your mouth (gratefully given to you by Teruteru) and gestured to Nagito with it, "Want some? Sometimes Sonia's executions go on for hours, kinda like a movie."

He raised a brow at that, but nonetheless took some popcorn for him to eat. "Really? Two hours sounds like a lot of time."

You grinned, "Oh yeah, it's a lot. Sometimes Gundham comes over and Sonia lets the animals rip them apart. It's a new blood sport in Novoselic now. Like Roman gladiators meets _The Lion King_ except Mustafa lives and maims! "

_How would that even work?_

Nagito decided not to ask the question. "So, how was your little party last night? Izuru seemed a little different when I talked to him this morning." Even if it was presumptuous for Nagito to even speak to the Ultimate Hope, let alone know what he was feeling, yet there was just something different about the dark haired man as they walked to the dining hall.

"Oh, I think he had a good time at the party, Nagito," you answered. "He was a bit of a wallflower, but I think Izuru enjoyed it? Probably?" You were quite unsure if Izuru enjoyed the event as a whole, but he certainly was amused at Fuyuhiko's demonstration.

"It's difficult for someone like _you,_ no matter how great the talent, to understand Izuru was feeling. I'm the same." A backhanded compliment from Nagito was rare, but it always surprised you how contradictory he was. It sent your head into a tailspin, trying to figure him out. It was like solving a Rubix Cube, but right was left and left was right and up was down.

"…Guess so." You sipped at your water through the straw, the salt of your snack drying your throat. _'Not that I want to understand Izuru.'_

"Shhh! It's starting!" Hiyoko whispered through her teeth and clapped her hands childishly in excitement.

The flat screen HD TV shows a perfectly clear scene of the gallows. However, it wasn’t the usual execution grounds that you were acquainted with. Sonia was in front of a large dying tree and the background seemed to be a park. You focused on the tree, instantly intrigued with the morbid imagery.

Behind the wooden stage area stood an ancient tree bare of any leaves, its spindly branches reaching into the sky like aching fingers. Despite its lack of foliage, the branches were thick and strong as it held the bodies of at least two other men, whose necks were hung by strong lengths of rope.

Two more men and a lone woman were on the stages, nooses hanging loosely around their necks. Each one of them was pale with terror. Underneath their feet were crates, the only thing that stood between them and certain death.

The Princess was beautiful. A strange and terrifying kind of magnificence radiated from Sonia, who was garbed in a pure white gown decorated with delicate roses. Perched on her head was a sharp and silver crown, crimson red rubies decorating the tips like blood on thorns. An evil smile was slashed onto her pale pink lips, red eyes glowing against the dreary gray of the park.

Sonia had a terrible beauty about her, a charisma that always made the people turn and listen to a terrifying extent. Her mind twisted when she became Ultimate Despair, gleefully dedicating Novoselic’s resources for the sake of Junko’s philosophies. 

Being the Princess of Novoselic had its advantages, you mused as you recalled how destructive the riots in Europe were.

Besides her was a gaunt man, whom you did not recognize. He was tall with thinning dark hair, peppered with grey. He wore a dark green military uniform decorated with badges of prestige. Underneath his dark green service cap he donned, you could spy the faintest glow of red that marked him as a Remnant. The stranger stood next to Sonia, listening intently. He had little to no stage presence, paling in comparison to someone as grand and proud as Sonia. 

The Princess spoke in a language you didn't understand, addressing the people with such passion and conviction that you felt it through the screen. You guessed that she was setting an example for anyone that went against her and Ultimate Despair.

Even if none of you understood Sonia, her allure and confidence was enough to leave you in awe. Maybe you would ask Izuru for a quick translation if he was up to it.

 _'I don't understand a word Sonia is saying_ ,' you thought to yourself, placing another handful of popcorn into your mouth ' _But damn! She's got the crowd's attention and everything_.' Your fingers touched Nagito's and you glanced up to see that he was just as transfixed as you.

You were eagerly awaiting for Sonia to hang them, but the woman started shouting towards the crowd, voice pleading. She spoke the same language as the Princess, completely foreign and desperate. Tears streamed down her face and an expression of complete despair bloomed on her expression like a terrible flower. Despite her pleas, no one in the crowd made a move.

Sonia called out to one of her guards and he came over, heavy boots on wood. With a sharp _thwack_ , he rammed the butt of his rifle into her head. It was enough to make her quiet and dizzy, but not enough to kill her. The woman almost crumbled to the ground, but didn’t. If her feet left the crate, she would have been hung by the noose around her head. Instead, she merely cried as blood streamed down the side of her head. 

The powerful display Sonia showed sent a shiver down your spine and you imagined the other Remnants felt the same. The Princess continued her speech, now with a renewed vigor in her tone. With a powerful sweep of her hand to conclude her talk, the crowd cheered as Sonia kicked the first crate from underneath the rebel that was nearest to him.

You watched in fascination as the rope tightened against his neck, digging in painfully. He pulled at the noose, trying to loosen it, but it was a futile effort. In a matter of minutes, his arms were hanging limply at his side before finally his entire body swayed like a leaf in the wind. You found yourself grinning, watching one of your best friends hang this stranger.

You could only imagine the despair that Sonia must be feeling, _anticipating_. You knew she was having fun.

She repeated the process with the second male, who gave a brief scream before it was cut off as the noose tightened around his flesh. He choked on the sound, feet kicking helplessly in the air until ceasing.

The final victim was now crying, shoulders shaking from fear as Sonia approached with an evil smile. The Princess' eyes glowed a bright red. She was so beautiful that you felt yourself quiver in your seat. Beauty was terror and Sonia was the personification of it.

The Princess cruelly kicked the box from underneath her victim, watching with a satisfied grin as the woman choked and scratched at her own neck before her hands fell away. Now, she was just another body on the hanging tree. 

The crowd, which was cheering the entire time, gave whoops of praise as Sonia turned towards them with a satisfied and evil smile slashed onto her face. She said something again, words lost in translation. The people below her cheered, jumping up and down in excitement. The eagerness of the crowd was palpable through the screen, almost to the point that you wanted to cheer for Sonia. She gave one last look into the camera, giving one last haunting and hollow smile at the audience before leaving the stage.

Static began to cover the screen, white noise damaging your ears. It seemed that the broadcast ended right there.

Looking away from the screen, you found that the bowl of popcorn was empty. Almost 30 minutes passed, but you felt like it was such a short amount of time.

"Wow!" Ibuki exclaimed, throwing her arms up energetically. "Did you see that tree?! That's gotta be one of the coolest things I've seen in my entire life! It looks like something for a death metal cover." Her once bright eyes gave off a blood red hue, a look of pure giddy on her face. "Actually!"

The Musician leaped to her feet, quickly rushing towards the door. "I've got inspiration for the song that I'll play for Junko's funeral! Gotta go, gotta go faaaaast!"

Before anyone could get a word in, Ibuki left the room and went to the second floor where she and Hiyoko were using. The Dancer sighed in frustration. "Even after all these years that stupidly childish attitude, figure, and personality of hers didn’t change," she hissed under her breath. Nonetheless got up from her kneeling position to follow her.

Besides you, Nagito laughed. "I guess some people never change," he mused while you nodded in agreement. 

Fuyuhiko stepped in front of the TV, his dark figure contrasting to the greys and whites of the static. "Even I have to admit _that_ ." He points to the TV. " _That_ was art." The Yakuza turned off the device, calm silence enveloping the room for a brief moment before he spoke again.

"I forgot to mention this all to you, but Sonia, Mahiru, the Imposter, and Gundham will be arriving sometime tonight," he explains to the Remnants. “They took so long to make sure that the situation in Europe will work in our favor."

You feel Akane shift by your feet and run her tongue over her sharp teeth, the excitement palpable from her figure. Despite her deathly thin figure, the Gymnast was still aching for a fight. “Sonia and the Imposter have been stirring things up on their side of the world. For the past few weeks both of them have been readying to air the funeral world-wide."

"Europe is ready to burst into riots and we're going to be the trigger." He closes his eyes, pausing to gather his composure. "This is the last stretch. The day after Sonia and the others arrive we're going to hold Junko's service. Everything is set, right?" He looked towards Kazuichi and the Mechanic stiffened from the shift in attention.

"That’s right. I had the cells reach out to each other all over the country. Once I'll be working with the Director's Monokuma Soldiers to broadcast the entire thing."

Peko was the next to speak, "And I'll be coordinating with Mikan, Akane, and Nekomaru to place the body into the casket." 

The Coach gave a wide toothy grin, boisterously declaring, "Yup! Leave the heavy lifting to me and Akane. I'll be expecting extra servings for the dinner, Teruteru!" Besides him, the Chef gave a low and empty chuckle.

"No problem, I've made enough to feed an army. My staff will be hauling the food to the rooftop," Teruteru adds with a playful wink.

The excitement grew in the air at the thought of Junko's funeral starting so soon. However, you cast a quick glance at Nagito. He was the picture of calm despite the service coming onto the horizon. He either had something planned or had given up entirely when he knew that no one in the building was going to let him near the body.

His green eyes caught yours and the Luckster gave you a bright smile. "Is there something wrong, Director?"

You stayed silent before speaking. "No, nothing’s wrong."

* * *

The afternoon was just beginning and it seemed that everyone was busy with Junko's service. The venue was done and your production crew was working with Kazuichi for the broadcast.

So that left you with Nagito. Izuru had retired to his room for the rest of the day. As the other Remnants left the room to do their tasks, you rushed over to the Luckster's side. If you kept him entertained, maybe he wouldn't cause trouble for the others.

"Nagito, let's hang out! I'm bored!" you childishly said, or more accurately, demanded.

He blinked at hard, completely off guard from your request. "What? Why? It would be a complete lapse of judgement to spend time with someone as boring and ordinary as myself. Surely, there's better choices— "

"Nope!" you shook your head vigorously. "I wanna spend time with you and that's that." You were, quite frankly, tired of Nagito's deprecating remarks. It put a damper on your vibes and it made you uncomfortable sometimes despite being Ultimate Despair. 

"Besides, everyone else is busy. We can drive around town—"

"I'm going to turn down that offer," he rejected without hesitation.

You pouted, the adorable expression looking almost comical on a Remnant of Despair. "Don’t be such a kill-joy, Nagito. I was going to go see Ibuki and Hiyoko. I'm curious about what song Ibuki is writing."

He stared at you in disbelief. "I have no doubt that Ibuki 's music will be great, but it _is_...deadly. You've watched their concerts."

"Duh, it's also fun to have your ears bleed, so all the more reason to watch their rehearsal."

Nagito really couldn't understand you and your need for destruction. "And you _want_ to do that?"

You grinned impishly, "With all my heart!" It was such a cheesy statement that Nagito barely believed it. 

He sighed to himself. The Luckster had the choice to join you, risking his hearing. But, there was a vague sense of worry that you might get hurt if you attended Ibuki's rehearsal by yourself. If you lost your hearing, even temporarily, it would cause problems for the service. "I guess I don't have a choice…"

You cheered, smiling gleefully. The innocent expression would have suited your face in a better time, a better world. But, the lack of color in your skin and the deep bags under your eyes was a bitter reminder to the Luckster of what kind of world he lived in, what he and you were a part of.

He followed you as you went down towards the elevators, a bitter taste spreading on his tongue. You were _not_ his friend. You were a means to an end, a stepping stone towards the hope that he was waiting for. Even so, Nagito couldn't shake the attachment he felt towards you and he sensed the same as you.

Nagito's feelings were a mess, a mass of knots he had yet to unravel. But, in the end, you, him and the others were just members of Ultimate Despair. Paving the path to true hope for the world. 

He chuckled lightly through his thin lips, a sound that held no humor. "I’ll be right there!"

Yes, in the end, everyone in this building were nothing but stepping stones to a great hope. Nothing more, nothing less. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take a long time to introduce characters because i dont want to describe them. 
> 
> also, just a little filler before I head into the funeral portion of this fic //finger guns 
> 
> leave a comment and a heart if you love this chapter! tysm!!! 


	9. The Countdown

After a short elevator ride down to the second floor. Like your own floor, shared with Kazuichi, it was mostly decorated with desks and chairs, lined up neatly. Layers of dust covered them, thick with grime. The conference room that Ibuki and Hiyoko was settled in was cleared of any furniture, allowing more space for them to practice.

Upon reaching the second floor, you could hear the blaring bass, vibrating the entire floor with its sinister music. It shook your very core and made your ears ring uncomfortably, each step a chore.

Glancing at Nagito, you saw that the Luckster was also struggling, his pallid face now a worrisome shade of green. Despite his smile, Nagito's jaw was tight, teeth grinding together in an effort to bear the pain of Ibuki's music.

You were starting to second guess having Ibuki's concert. Though it was scheduled after you, Sonia, and Fuyuhiko gave your speeches, you weren't sure that the Remnants could handle it—besides Hiyoko, of course.

 _'If Ibuki's song is going to knock us all out, then I have to find some way to stop her somehow,_ ' you thought, trying to formulate a way to do so without hurting the Musician's feelings.

When no such solution presented itself, you sighed and resigned yourself to at least hearing the song that Ibuki was going to perform. Sensing your hesitation, Nagito scooted past you and knocked.

"Ibuki, Hiyoko! Are you busy? The Director and I wanted to attend your rehearsal," he shouted, a soft voice trying to overcome the loud music from the other side of the door.

He looked into your eyes, offering a sheepish smile and a casual shrug. "Sorry, but you were taking so long that I had to. Are you scared of Ibuki?"

You narrowed your eyes at him with an irritated look. 'The sheer clownery of this man!' As if you were the only one who didn't want to break Ibuki's heart. Maybe Izuru could do it, but he was a heartless demigod. He didn't count.

Before you can retort, the door opened to reveal an annoyed Hiyoko.

"What do you guys want? The funeral is soon!" the Dancer said in annoyance. Her childish tone was a stark contrast for her mature figure, which somehow seemed cute in your eyes. Averting your gaze, you spoke up.

"Well, I just wanted to see you guys rehearse at least once," you replied. "I brought Nagito with me…well, because he has free time." Hiyoko raised a brow, staring at the Luckster with narrowed suspicion.

"You don’t have to worry about me!" Nagito assured with a small laugh. " Ibuki's music is so devastating…ly good that I'm worried that the Director will black out."

The Dancer smirked at you maliciously. "So, you plebs, finally want to hear Ibuki's music, huh? Of course, I'll throw in my dancing. For free even!"

The subject of Hiyoko's dancing wasn't even mentioned, but you didn't say anything. Hiyoko's beautiful dances are still as hypnotic as ever, demanding the attention of everyone in the room. Seeing her performances on the TV meant nothing in comparison to seeing Hiyoko live.

With an eager grin, you exclaimed excitedly, "Ohh! Really?!" You playfully tapped Nagito's shoulder and beamed at him. "See?! I told you this would be fun!"

You quickly entered the room, eager to see performances from the Ultimate Musician and Ultimate Traditional Dancer. Nagito sighed at your immature excitement, recklessly heading into the conference room. He wished that you were a little concerned about your hearing.

* * *

The conference room was cleared away, leaving ample room for Hiyoko's dancing and Ibuki's equipment. The large oval-shaped table that was the centerpiece of the rooms was cleared away, probably by the labor of Monokuma Soldiers or the Robots.

At the far right wall of the conference space was a makeshift stage—complete with a few amps, microphone stand and black tubular protrusions on the ground. Maybe they shot out something? You didn't have time to dwell on the idea since your gaze shifted over to the Musician.

Ibuki was fine-tuning her guitar with intense focus. Her tongue stuck out adorably from her lips, gaze glued to the strings. Upon your arrival with Nagito, the Musician looked up and beamed widely.

She extended her index and pinkie finger out, something akin to a rocker's greeting. "What are you two doing here?! Fuyuhiko is going to turn into the Hulk if he sees you guys slacking off!"

"Didn't you hear me at breakfast? I'm done with the venue," you replied pointedly. "I want to hear what you have planned for the rehearsal. I don't doubt your talent, Ibuki, but _I'm_ the one directing Junko's funeral. I have to make sure everything is perfect."

Ibuki saluted you. "Roger-dodger, Director!" Your mouth twitched in growing annoyance. Catching this, the Musician immediately switched gears and went to placate you.

"But, seriously. Ibuki's on it. Ibuki kinda had an idea for a song ever since Junko was executed. Ibuki just had no idea on the tune of it. Should it be melancholy or should the song be heavy-metal?"

You felt your mood calm down, understanding Ibuki's challenge. In your perspective, sometimes it was difficult to continue with certain storylines and arcs. It took true perseverance to continue with your work.

"Fine," you yielded. "You mentioned earlier that you were inspired by Sonia's executions. Did that help you with your performances?"

Hiyoko joined Ibuki's side, pouting. "Who do you think you're talking to?" the Dancer asked sarcastically, whipping out a bright purple fan. It was folded close and she playfully pressed it against her smirking lips.

"It would take a real _dunce_ not to be inspired by that. The despair of it was stunning, a work of pure art and power," Hiyoko droned on, her vibrant orange irises now replaced with a dull red glow. Her mouth was fixed into a hollow and dazed smile.

"Beauty is terror, that's what Big Sis Junko taught me! I almost forgot that lesson. That's what my dancing has been missing, this is the strength that I was lacking before!"

None of you interrupted Hiyoko's monologue, the strain of her emotions rendering everyone silent.

Junko's lessons on despair differed between your classmates. It would do no good to argue about it. Instead, you merely smiled weakly and nodded.

"Heh," you chuckled, not understanding Hiyoko's words. "As expected of Junko. She's really understood the depths of despair."

"Because her entire existence is despair."

From your right, Nagito spoke up. His expression was no longer gentle and lighthearted. Instead, the Luckster's face was neutral and betrayed no hint of emotion. But, behind his sea-green eyes, you saw the misery, hate and love he held for the True Ultimate Despair.

You resisted the urge to sigh out loud. ' _Maybe an understanding with Nagito was impossible from the start.'_ You take a fleeting glance at the Luckster, who seemed to be engaged in a glaring battle with Hiyoko.

Ibuki clapped her hands together, instantly dispelling the mounting tension in the room as well as gathering your attention. "Before, Nagito and Hiyoko get into a brawl…" She turned towards you, eyes bright with excitement.

"Didn't you say that you wanted to see us rehearse, Director?!"

You nodded, long having accepted the health risks of listening to Ibuki's despair music. Since you were already in despair, you developed a tolerance for the Musician's heavy metal. It was a great improvement from your school days, where you could only hear a few minutes of Ibuki's songs before passing out.

Now, you could proudly say that you could attend her concert and _just_ have bleeding ears!

"I was born ready!" you exclaimed eagerly, grabbing a chair to sit down on. Nagito pulled up a chair next to you, almost as eager to hear their performance. Despite the risks, everyone enjoyed Hiyoko and Ibuki's concerts.

If you had to describe it, it would be best to say that 'it was so good that it hurts'.

Ibuki plugged in her bass to the portable speaker, the air ringing with excitement and static. "Get ready, you guys! This is titled _Junko Enoshima_!"

Thrown off kilter from the plain song title, you barely had a chance to voice your confusion before Ibuki strummed the first chord. Fire bursts from its curved head, causing you to instinctively move back in fear of getting your face burnt off.

"Holy fuck…!" you cursed under your breath, touching the ends of your singed hair.

Ibuki leaned towards the mic, singing in a language you could barely understand. If you ever wondered what despair sounded like, all you had to do was watch one of Ibuki's music videos. Her smooth and rich voice filled the air, rattling your teeth.

Ibuki's voice made your blood curdle, sending waves of nausea through you. However, as horrible as you felt, you couldn’t say that you hated it.

There was a deep sorrow in her voice, echoing throughout the entire building. It nearly broke your heart.

There was a break in Ibuki's song as she stopped the fire, taking a few long steps away from the front of the stage as Hiyoko danced through the air. Your attention was drawn to the Dancer, whose movements were hypnotic in a way.

Without you noticing, your head began to bob in the rhythm of the strangely melancholic song and the gentle motions of Hiyoko. It all blended together into something you couldn't describe, a hopeless display of beauty and art.

Time slowed to a crawl, Ibuki's song and Hiyoko's dance entwining together into a piece of art that was true despair. As the final note rang out, sending a painful vibration through your body there was a loud pop as confetti and smoke shot out of the tubular devices you noticed earlier. Blinking rapidly, you tried to register that the performance ended. It felt like time had no meaning when you were watching Ibuki and Hiyoko. 

Through the rain of shining confetti and faint smoke, the Musician and Dancer looked at you and Nagito expectantly.

"Well?" Ibuki breathed out, voice hoarse from singing. "How was it? Did ya like it? Was it bad? Should I have cut out the part where Junko brilliantly betrayed Mukuro? I had this part where I wanted to describe the Ultimate Punishment, but—"

The Musician was cut off by Hiyoko getting into your gawking face. "C'mon, you're not here to be star struck, you idiot! For someone that preaches about being productive, you're not being very helpful right now." 

Snapping back from your stupor, you tried to gather your thoughts. It was out of character for her to be so concerned with what others thought, but it was this particular song that was important for her to perfect.

You beamed at them, "I thought it was great! No lie!" You formed a circle with your index finger and thumb, a signal of your honest opinion. "It's perfect for Junko's funeral and when we air your performance, all your fans are going to cheer all over the world!"

A wide grin spread over Ibuki's face, eyes glimmering brightly. "Really?! I don't wanna tarnish Junko's memory with a lame ass performance…"

"Don't worry about it," Nagito quipped. His face was paler than usual as if Ibuki's music had managed to suck out whatever life he had left in him. "Despite being Ultimate Despair, you still haven't lost your touch, Ibuki."

Ignoring the backhandedness of Luckster's comment, Nagito's words were genuine.

Ibuki whooped and hollered, clearly excited that her song was going to be played for Junko's funeral. Like a chipmunk hopped up on caffeine, she jumped all around her makeshift stage, her excitement impossible to contain.

You turned your attention towards Hiyoko, ready to give her your compliments before she spoke up. "You don't even have to tell," the Dancer cuts. "My dancing was peak perfection. I have to give the audience what they want when you air Big Sis Junko's service."

An evil smirked on your face, recalling the destructive influence of Ibuki's music combined with Hiyoko's talent. Art was just as powerful as the brute force Fuyuhiko and Sonia exerted. The Musician and Dancer preyed on one's emotions and aesthetics, twisting it into Junko's despair

It was their unique form of art. 

You could never copy such beauty, never hope to. It was their brand of despair that Junko provided for them.

Ibuki slapped her hand on Hiyoko's shoulder, bringing her back from stewing in self-satisfaction. "C'mon, Hiyoko, we gotta practice before the big day. Everyone's gonna be here, including Mahiru!"

At the mention of the Photographer, you see Hiyoko's countenance brighten. It had been a long time since she met Mahiru, who had been around the world spreading propaganda for Novoselic and Ultimate Despair. You had worked with her on occasion, but not often enough. But, Mahiru seemed to enjoy her work, it allowed her to expand her world like she often talked about in your school days.

"You're right!" Hiyoko exclaimed with a renewed vigor. "The whole world is going to be watching us." She turned towards you and Nagito, almost glaring. "If you think this was good, you're gonna be blown away by our actual performance tomorrow!"

Nagito gave a light chuckle, beaming at her. "I don't doubt it. Unlike the last time I attended your concerts, I didn't lose consciousness this time. How about you, Director?" He turned towards you. "Are your ears bleeding like you thought?"

You touched your earlobe and felt your fingertips come away wet. There was blood on the pads of your fingers. Checking underneath your hair, you found a trail of dried blood on your neck, which stopped just above your shoulders.

But, it seemed that your hearing was okay, so you thought that you got off easy.

Grinning at the Musician and the Dancer, you showed off your bloodstained fingers. "Yup! Haha, as expected of Ibuki, your music is so good, it hurts!"

* * *

After being ushered out of the room by Hiyoko, you and Nagito left the conference room to wander around the office building in search of something to do. Nagito shut down most of your ideas, such as driving around the city and killing some stranglers. He was almost desperate not to let you behind the front wheel, recalling how Ibuki went into cardiac arrest days before.

Once on the first floor of the building, ideas running dry, before you ran into Kazuichi pacing in front of the basement entrance. He was holding the chainsaw sword from yesterday.

Curiosity quipped, you decided to scare him to get out of his thought-induced trance.

Sneaking up behind him, you slapped both your hands on his shoulders and shouted, "What'cha doing here, Kazuichi?!"

He gave an ear-piercing scream, hands going onto the hilt of the sword and swinging the sharp blade towards you. Already accounting the Mechanic's reaction, you stepped out of the way while grinning impishly.

"Ah, the rush of near death! It's just as exciting as ever!" you breathed out, adrenaline rushing through your veins. "We almost had _two_ funerals on our hands!"

Nagito looked at you in concern and slight annoyance, "That was a really stupid thing to do."

Kazuichi pointed a finger at you, scowling. "Yeah! Don't act so fuckin' dumb while I'm holding this thing! You're directing the funeral, after all, so practice a little care."

Understanding their anger, you tried to calm the two males down. "Sorry, sorry. You guys are right. But, you looked so deep in thought, that I couldn't help myself."

"Whatever," the Mechanic groaned. He decided to put the entire matter behind him before he forgot why he was on the first floor. "Anyways, you have good timing. I need you two to help me with something."

"What is it?" Nagito asked him.

"Remember those two Future Foundation agents in the basement? Um…Fu…Fum…and the other one?" Kazuichi said, not even remembering their names. Not that you blamed him. You didn't remember any of your victims, losing count after a certain number of times. Faces and names all blended together.

The only reason that you recalled their names was because they were the stars in your video.

"I do, why?"

"Well, I finished my tasks a minutes ago with Fuyuhiko and he told me to go dispose of their bodies so they don't stink up the basement floor. We're still going to use this place and it would be pretty bad if it smelled like death."

"So, you're here with that chainsaw to get rid of them?" Nagito questioned, pointing at Kazuichi's weapon.

"Yup, dismember their bodies, 'em into some trash bags and have some of the Monokuma Soldiers drop it off where the foundation can find them. I think it's mostly to piss off the Future Foundation."

You raised a brow at him, believing that the answer to Kazuichi's dilemma was quite obvious. "Why don't you ask the Monokuma Robots or Soldiers to help you?"

He rolled his eyes, "Because the funeral is soon. Everyone is off doing their own thing and using the Robots and Soldiers to help them. You guys plus Izuru are the only ones that are free."

You couldn't imagine Kazuichi knocking on Izuru's door. He was always weary of the Ultimate Hope.

"Fine," you agreed and looked towards Nagito. He always had a weak body and you wouldn't blame him if he couldn't go. "How about you, Nagito? You think you can help?"

The Luckster thought for a few short moments before nodding. "Sure. If you're going to dismember them, I think I can manage to bring one of them up here."

Kazuichi grinned, shark-like teeth glimmering in the dim light of the building. "Great!" He turned his back towards you and Nagito, cradling the chainsaw sword close to his person. "I didn't get a chance to use this during the party. It won't be as fun as sawing into live flesh, but it'll do!"

* * *

You didn’t think you would be touching two dead bodies this week, but here you were, hauling Ren's dismembered corpse in a black trash bag.

Grabbing the top end of the trash bag, Nagito was gripping the bottom. He looked a little strained and breathed in obvious exhaustion, but otherwise appeared fine. There was no way that you could have carried Ren's body by yourself and so you flashed Nagito a grateful grin.

"Thanks for the help, Nagito."

He grinned back at you, face slightly red from the strain of hauling a body—albeit cut into parts— up the stairs taking a toll on the Luckster's stamina. "I have to find some way to be useful. I didn't do anything to contribute to the True Ultimate Despair's service, a great stepping stone for hope. This is the least that someone as useless as me could do."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We're all stepping stones, I get it." Upon reaching the entrance, you pushed open the front door with your hips. By this point in time, you were used to Nagito's remarks and they no longer bothered you that much. You didn't understand Nagito, but you did understand that his core beliefs would never change.

The dark red sky shown above, the Sun unable to pierce through the air pollution. In front of the office building there was a black Jeep and with a loud grunt, you and Nagito threw Ren's body into the back. Kazuichi was on your heels, Fumiko's trash bag placed unceremoniously over his shoulders. He dumped her in the same careless manner as you did.

Noting the lack of Monokuma Soldiers, you grinned eagerly at Kazuichi and Nagito. "Am _I_ gonna drive these two to Future Foundation's doorstep?!"

The Mechanic smacked upside the back of your head.

"Ouch!"

"I would rather eat a bucket of nails than let you drive," he countered hotly. "I'll just call one of the Monokuma Soldiers here and do it. Let them run the risk of getting captured by the foundation."

" _God_ , you suck!" you whined.

"Now, now," Nagito cuts in, getting between you and Kazuichi. "We can't have you dying, Director. Have a little self-preservation.

"I'm here for a good time, not a long time."

Kazuichi was starting to feel a headache coming on. The more you talked, the more he wanted to bang his head against the car. "Just shut up, already!" Turning his gaze towards Nagito, Kazuichi said, "Keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t jack the car. I'm going to get some Monokuma Soldiers to drive."

"Understood."

"Booo! Booo! Stop sucking the fun out of everything!"

Ignoring your words, Kazuichi walked into the building, leaving you and Nagito alone in the desolate wasteland. Blessed silence overtook the two of you before your mind wandered over to the impending funeral service.

"Nagito, if we let you see Junko's body, were you going to do something to her?"

Your question floated into the still air, causing Nagito to look back at you with wide green eyes. He paused, debating on how to answer you. He understood that you idolized Junko, just like the rest of the Remnants. You saw Junko as a muse, someone to aspire to.

But, Nagito was confused about what he felt. It was a confusing combination of love and hate towards Junko, just like his ideals towards hope. One of the only reasons he followed Junko was to make a bright and beautiful hope bloom in the future. The more sacrifices were made, the bigger the hope would be to swallow all the despair Junko—now, Remnants—caused.

Now that she was dead, Nagito didn't see the hope that he was waiting for. Not a speck of it could be found. And until he found what he was searching for, Nagito didn't want Junko to die. Not yet.

The Luckster shrugged. "…Probably," he answered quietly. "I wasn't going to set her body on fire like everyone thought. But, I wanted…a part of Junko Enoshima to live. This isn't nearly enough despair for hope to thrive on." His eyes gestured to the dead landscape before him, not a hint of life could be found. Nagito absentmindedly rubbed his arm, trying to understand the conflicting feelings raging inside of him. He hates Junko Enoshima, but there was a thin line between that and love. Did he love Junko? Ever? 

You leaned against the truck, head tilting towards the angry crimson sky. "Yeah. I understand the feeling. I don’t want the Tragedy, this piece of beautiful art Junko created, to end either."

He glanced at you, seeing the mournful expression on your face. The Luckster had his doubts, but you were truly saddened with Junko’s death. "The service everyone is planning is meant to immortalize her name. You won't let her memory die."

"There's a thousand ways to keep Junko's name alive besides this funeral. She's not going to be just a footnote in history. Us, the Remnants, will continue to spread Junko’s despair until the day..." You trailed off, unable to find the words.

“The day what?”

You shrugged, “I guess till the day the world dies with sweet despair in its mouth. Junko would have wanted that."

"Who knows what she would have wanted?" Nagito scoffed. You looked down from the sky, gaze focused on the ruined office building that was your home for the past few days. A heavy somber atmosphere weighed on you and Nagito like an oppressive fog.

You sighed, your expression losing your usual chipper. "Who knows."

Before you could say anything else, Kazuichi was running towards the both of you. Just a few steps behind him, a pair of Monokuma Soldiers dressed in black suits and fedoras followed.

"Alright, I got the guys!" the Mechanic shouted at you. He waved the Soldiers over and gave them their orders. "Just drive these bags to the nearest Future Foundation base. Uh…And here's a little note for Chisa to 'taunt' her. This should be some great despair to see her own underlings butchered.” 

Giving them a slip of paper, both Soldiers nodded and got into the Jeep. Moving away from the car, you watched as they drove away from the building. Once they were out of sight, the Mechanic faced you and Nagito with his hands on his hips.

"Whelp, my job here is done. Do you guys wanna grab a bite to eat? I could really use some food after all that," Kazuichi offered. You smiled, the somber conversation from before fading away.

"Yup! Sounds good!" you shouted in excitement, the prospect of eating Teruteru's food never failing to lift your spirits.

Nagito was stunned at your sudden shift in mood as you sprinted after Kazuichi, walking side by side with the Mechanic. A moment passed before you realized that the Luckster wasn’t following you. Spinning on your heel, you waved at him.

"Nagito, let's get going! After a work-out, you gotta eat back your calories! It's only natural!" 

Kazuichi snickered at this, turning towards Nagito with a grin. "The Director's right! Hurry up before her _fat ass_ eats your portion!"

You playfully punched at his arm, laughing.

The innocent sight of you and Kazuichi teasing each other seemed morbidly off. He, you, and Kauzichi were Ultimate Despair, committed to spreading depravity in Junko Enoshima's name. Yet here everyone was acting more or less like their academy days. 

Despite his convictions on what the Remnants were, Nagito couldn't help but smile at his classmates.

_'Some things never change.'_

Smiling brightly, he sprinted to join you and Kazuichi. "Coming!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im finally get off my ass and do the funeral arc!!! also, this turned out to be more filler than i expected, but its a good opportunity to flesh out some characters lol 
> 
> leave a kudos and a comment if you love this chapter and fic !


	10. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: graphic depiction of corpses and violence 

On the day of Junko Enoshima's funeral, you woke up at 4:30 a.m.

It wasn't by choice. But, by the sound of a helicopter's blades beating against the dorm room. Your eyes snapped open and wiped away the sleep crust with a hand. Grogginess still plagued your mind, but the strange whirl of the wind forced you to get up from bed and put some pants on. The last thing you wanted was to be in front of the Remnants of Despair with only your underwear and a tank-top. 

Pulling on a pair of joggers and jacket, you went out into the early morning air.

The end of the world seemed almost peaceful when the sky wasn't an angry, blaring red. Instead, it was a dark blue dotted with clouds, pale moonlight breaking through. Even so, it was enough to see that the other Remnants were just as confused as yourself. As everyone streamed out of their respective dorm rooms, you saw a sterling silver helicopter parking itself in front of the office building.

Dirt and weeds whirled around the vehicle, making it impossible to go near it. However, it was obvious who was arriving so late.

"Fucking shit," Fuyuhiko exhaled, standing next to you. His golden eyes were wide with disbelief and a hint of irritation. "The Princess always had a thing for theatrics."

The only thing you could do was weakly nod.

Once the helicopter landed a guard dressed in a Novoselic military uniform stepped out from the driver's seat. His expression was grim and tight as he opened the sliding door of the vehicle. He offered a hand to Sonia, who he carefully lifted from the helicopter. 

Ever the epitome of grace, Sonia only offered her classmates a small yet dangerous smile.

"Good eve—or rather, Good morning, everyone! It's been a while!" she eagerly greeted everyone. Following her was Mahiru, who looked worse for wear. She was paler than usual, her freckles standing out and dark patches underneath her once vibrant green eyes. Ever the Photographer, Mahiru still had her satchel at her waist which contained her camera.

The Photographer regarded everyone with a cool nod, a ghost of the once energetic girl she once was. 

Following after her was the Imposter, though you had to take a moment to realize that.

They were dressed in their Byakuya Togami garb, which the Imposter explained was one of their favorite disguises. They wrecked havoc whenever they pretended to be Byakuya and when the Imposter became Ultimate Despair, their talent shining brighter with Junko's teachings.

Back in your academy days, you remembered that the Imposter was on the heavier side with a love for food.Now, they were skinny and gaunt, starving themselves ever since the Tragedy began. The Imposter wasn't as thin as Akane, but it was clear that they were on the brink of death.

The last Remnant to enter was Gundham, that large white python wrapped around his body. The creature was named Anantashesha, a Hindu primal being creation. The Breeder boasted about taming such a beast and how his deadly venom was one of his weapons in spreading despair. You didn't doubt that such a large beat was capable of destruction, but Anantashesha was more like a pet than a deadly primal creature.

"Jeez, what took you so long!" Ibuki exclaimed, easily shaking off the sleep that plagued her a few moments before. "Ibuki and the others were gonna start the funeral without you!"

Smiling at the Musician's energetic greeting, Mahiru replied, "Sorry. But, it's better to be late than to never come at all, right? Some rebels in Africa gave us a hard time when we came to retrieve Gundham." She clicked her tongue, eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Those losers don't give up. I hope they have fun rotting in the ground."

"Hello, Ana! Have you been a good boy?" you cheerfully greeted, running up to the white snake. You found that Anantashesha was a handful to say, especially when it was Hindu rather than your native tongue. Ana seemed to be just fine and the beast reacted pleasantly as you gently scratched the top of his head. His tongue darted out playfully.

Gundham frowned at this behavior. "Mother of Puppets, you shall address Anantashesha by his true name!" he scolded you yet made no move to get away from you. Despite his affiliation with Ultimate Despair, Gundham couldn't bring himself to tear Anantashesha from you.

"I told you to stop calling me the Mother of Puppets, O Supreme Overlord of Ice," you shot back, now scratching Anantashesha's chin. The python crawled away from Gundham just slightly, wrapping himself tightly around your neck in an affectionate manner. You felt your throat constrict yet couldn’t bring yourself to pry Anantashesha from you.

"So c-cute, su-such a good boy," you rasped, face turning blue as your hands patted the snake's long winding body. Gundham noticed that you were about to pass out and he gently yet hastily unwrapped Anantashesha from your throat.

"Fool!" he shouted, hands already prying Anantashesha off of you. "Do you wish to die! A death from one of the primal beings of creation is a harsh and painful suffering that lasts for an eternity."

You took in a blessed amount of air and smiled at Anantashesha, unable to get mad at the creature. "I would want no better death than to be strangled by such a cute primal being of creation! Ana looks so healthy, I'm glad you're taking care of him."

Underneath his scarf, you watched as the tips of the Breeder's ears turned bright red. "T-Thank you…"

The others were cheerfully greeting the newly arrived Remnants, the image of your smiling classmates burning itself into your mind. It truly looked like a class reunion.

At the bitter reminder of reunion, you felt a pang in your heart as you recalled the only student not there. ' _Chiaki…_ ' you thought sadly. Remembering the Gamer didn't bring you the sweet taste of despair, but a deep-seated melancholy that you stabbed at you.

Thankfully, you were quick in shoving the memory of the class rep into the darkest recesses of your mind. Chiaki’s memory didn’t bring you good despair, sometimes. It just hurt to think about.

Hiyoko and Mikan were clustered around Mahiru, eagerly asking her questions about her life out in the world. Besides being a prominent figure in Novoselic, the Photographer was vital in spreading propaganda throughout the world. 

Ibuki was excitedly greeting the Imposter, admiring their form as Byakuya Togami. The Musician was chattering, going a million miles a minute as she detailed her upcoming concert with Hiyoko. The Imposter paled after hearing that, but nonetheless muttered something that made Ibuki jump with joy. Akane stalked over to the duo and showed off her skinny bicep, the bone morbidly prominent through her skin.

The Imposter scoffed at that, showing off their own rail-thin arm.

Your eyes drifted over to Sonia, who had expectantly waltzed over to Kazuichi. The Mechanic was a few feet away from the crowd. When The Princess bounded up to him, Sonia cheerfully greeted him, her voice warm with affection. Even from your distance, you could catch bits and pieces of their conversation.

"Kazuichi, it's been _too_ long! Dreadfully so! I always extended my hand for you to settle in Novoselic with me, but you never replied…."

He looked away, clicking his tongue. "Just get away from me already. Did you get more annoying the last time I saw you?!"

Sonia swooned, but you could see the bright red glow of despair in her eyes. “You don’t have to be so coy,” she sing-songly said. “I love you so much, so don’t play games with my heart.” 

Sometimes despair didn't have to be gloom and doom. Sometimes, it could be completely hilarious. Kazuichi and Sonia were a prime example of that. 

You glanced over at Gundham, whose gaze was set on the Mechanic and Princess. His grey gaze there was a deep-seated despair that you relished. It was Gundham's misery, one that he owned completely. However, it didn’t mean that you couldn't savor it. The despair of your classmates was always your favorite meal and you always took the opportunity to torment them a little.

Smirking, you nudged the Breeder, "Those two are really lovey-dovey." Your tone took a darker turn, disgust evident. "It really bothers me that they just left you out like that. Some friend Sonia is." Gundham's chest clenched painfully and Anantashesha sensed the sadness from his master, constricting close to him as a gesture of comfort.

You waited a moment before you saw the Breeder's shoulders shake before he threw his head upwards in boisterous laughter. The sound made your bones ache as his eyes burned crimson with despair.

"You push me further into despair, Mother of Puppets, haha!" the Breeder laughed. Anantashesha hissed pleasantly, coiling around Gundham gently. "Your power levels are too low! I suggest you come after rigorous training in the Netherworld, fiend."

Despite him putting on a front, you knew that your words dug into him. Well, you got what you came for and decided to put the matter to rest. Now that all the Remnants were together, you could finally get on with the show.

After coddling Kazuichi for a few more moments, Fuyuhiko approached Sonia. They exchanged pleasantries before calling you over. Forgetting your earlier treatment towards Gundham, you flash him a smile and a wink.

"Whelp, I gotta go," you replied to him. "See ya later. I'll be sure to give you good seating for the funeral."

Gundham gave you a brief nod before you left him. The sharp morning air and your conversation with Gundham had woken you up fully. Walking up to Sonia and Fuyuhiko, you smiled in greeting towards the Princess.

"Good morning, Sonia," you chirped. "Fashionably late as always."

She chuckled. "Good things take time, Director. We managed to come here right no time, anyways. From what Fuyuhiko told me everything is all prepped and ready."

Besides her, Fuyuhiko sighed in irritation. "And who do you think did all that? Everyone worked hard. I know you were puttin' down rebels, but is it really that hard to kill ants?" Sonia pouted at this.

"It was hella hard, I’ll have you know," she retorted harshly. "Do you know how many people I had to kill to get the message across that Novoselic and Ultimate Despair was not to be trifled with?"

You placed yourself between them. "C'mon now! Let's not fight. This is supposed to be a despairly touching reunion!" The sparks flew between your two classmates, not heeding any of your words. "I'll ask Teruteru to brew pots of coffee and we can get Junko's service started by noon. Just enough time to get everything ready and have a nap! Doesn't that sound great? Coffee and naps!"

Sonia and Fuyuhiko shared a look before huffing. 

"Very well," the Princess yielded. "Let's get straight to business. I plan to have a grand time during Junko's funeral. I shall speak it into existence!" 

"That's what I've been saying since the beginning," Fuyuhiko grumbled.

* * *

Thirty minutes later you felt more or less awake. With you being on your second cup of coffee, you felt as if you tackle the day. However, you knew that the day was long and that your burst of energy would be depleted especially when dealing with the other Remnants.

Seated in the presidential suite, Fuyuhiko took up arms in his office chair as both you and Sonia took the small couches in front of the desk. Peko wasn't there, going off on her own to supervise everyone getting ready for the service. The three of you cradled your cups of coffee, the pot of the steaming liquid being held by a Monokuma Robot dressed in a chef's uniform.

The earthy aroma was comforting and eased the tension of the service as Fuyuhiko began to speak. "Before we begin, I'm sure that you already know, Sonia. But, Kazuichi has already set up the national broadcast. And the Director, Sonia, and Mahiru had been coordinating to broadcast the service world-wide." You sipped at your coffee, being reminded of your earlier project. It was in the works for the past few weeks with Sonia and Mahiru.

With their resources and influence, Junko's funeral was ready to be broadcasted for the world to see.

You smirked in self-satisfaction. "Yup! Also, I got all the informative brochures ready to be given to the commoners. All the wrongdoings of the Future Foundations are on them. From every wrongful death to abuses of power, my guys are ready to distribute them around Japan. In addition, over the past few weeks, since Junko’s execution, members of Ultimate Despair have been setting up global simultaneous riots in preparation for the service."

Sonia chuckled amusedly, covering her pale pink lips with a gloved hand. "You're very cruel, Director. But, you know how to please the masses. It's the only thing you're good for, anyways. Just an entertainer." The comment sent a stab right through your heart. But, you could only savor the pain Sonia's callous words caused you.

"I know right!" you agreed chirped, eyes burning red as you laughed. "My only value is being behind the scene. I know what everyone wants, so I'll do my best to provide the best entertainment!" You beamed widely, the light catching in your teeth. You looked insane and giddy, a poor imitation of a human.

Fuyuhiko whistled. "You really thought of everything, huh?"

You shrugged though a small yet dangerous smile tugged at your lips. “It’s easy. Give the people some horrible truths and half-lies. Add a face and a name to hate and they’re puddy in your hands. It's not hard when you're talking about the Future Foundation."

The Yakuza smirked. "Though to be using your own brother for your plans…that's brilliant."

"Yeah, yeah." You rolled your eyes playfully. "Anyways, who's gonna tell everyone about what you're going to do to Junko's body? You think we should make a list of who gets what?"

Sonia paused in though before she started speaking. "Well, obviously as Fuyuhiko and I are the top, we’re going to be the first ones to choose. Oh…" She trailed off as if remembering something. "Technically, Izuru is the leader of Ultimate Despair now, isn't he? Do you think he wants to take some part of Junko?"

From behind his desk, the Yakuza rolled his eyes. "I hate to admit it, but yeah. Junko trusted Izuru and he's good at everything. I…" He didn't complete that sentence. So, you finished it for him, repeating the words that Junko used to say.

"Would be a disappointment to Ultimate Despair."

The words felt wrong and vile in your mouth, so hurtful to them that it even stung at your core. No matter how you didn't want to say it, your desire for despair drove you to say those disgusting words. Silence filled the room and for a minute you worried that Fuyuhiko was going to snap.

However, upon looking up, you could only see Fuyuhiko beaming widely at you. Instead of his usual golden irises, they were replaced with a eerily dull red like dried blood. You could barely recognize him as the proud Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, the Ultimate Yakuza. With the shadows on his face and his dark suit, he looked so horrifying that made you regret the words you spouted off.

"You're right, Director," the Yakuza yielded, smiling slightly. It held no joy, no humanity. Instead, it interested you and Sonia, your eyes gazing into his suffering with hunger. "That's why, for the sake of our cause, I know when to step down." He said it so gently, so easily that you wondered what kind of inner turmoil your comment caused. However, if Fuyuhiko felt anything, you didn't see it.

"Back to the topic at hand," Sonia cuts in. The lingering silence was easily broken by her authoritative voice, causing you and Fuyuhiko to snap back in attention. "I believe that Izuru would not do anything with Junko's body. Can you imagine someone like him cutting off a limb to be one with Junko Enoshima?"

Sonia was right. Despite his obvious affiliation with Ultimate Despair, Izuru was always set apart from you and your classmates. You couldn't imagine him doing anything to the body. Probably.

Fuyuhiko shook his head. "Nope. You saw how Junko and Izuru interacted. They might be similar, but that's about all."

"Then, we don’t have to worry about it," you dismissed. "Teruteru said the feast is ready. His assistants and Akane are bringing everything up to the greenhouse. Though, you can guess that Byakuya and Akane aren't going to eat."

"I'm enforcing the no human body parts rule," the Yakuza interjected suddenly yet his voice was stern and uncompromising. "I swear to God if that moron gives me a kidney pie with a real fuckin' kidney, I'll spillin' his blood all over the rooftop."

"Come now, Fuyuhiko. It's good to let loose once in a while," the Princess chided, daintily sipping at her cup. "I wouldn’t mind if the Chef did give us human meat. Just avoid the meat dishes."

"So, food prep is all done. The body is also ready for the… _DIY-amputation_." You said the last part of the statement quickly, not wanting to anger Fuyuhiko. There was really no other way to describe what you were going to do with Junko’s body. Transplant sounded way too formal. "Mikan, Akane, and I had to sanitize and inject the corpse to make sure it was safe."

Remnants of Despair? Being safe? Sometimes, you had to wonder if you were actually the Ultimate Comedian for being so hilarious.

Fuyuhiko nodded, mentally checking the deed done in his head. "It seems that everything is in order, then. The body preparations, the broadcast, the food. It’s kinda amazing to think that we accomplished all of that in a few days…” He lifted himself up from the chair, the tension leaving him. "Let's have breakfast and start the funeral right away."

* * *

"Jeez, those guys made you do all this work, huh? Even though they're guys, none of them did the heavy lifting?"

You and Mahiru were looking over the greenhouse venue. The place was bustling with people and robots, alike. Most wore the Monokuma Helmets while some of Teruteru’s assistants looked haggard as they set up the grand feast table. There was hardly a moment of quiet. 

Mahiru insisted on coming to the roof to see your handiwork. She always admired your sets even back in your academy days. She was just as picky as you with details and you often collaborated whenever the academy staff brought you together for research.

You waved off Mahiru's complaint, "Nekomaru helped a lot. He was the one that brought the casket and the body from the basement. Besides, most of the work was done by the Monokuma Robots and Soldiers." She crossed her arms in defiance. Her pale and gaunt face lacked any of life she had in Hope's Peak Academy. But, the fire still burned in her green eyes.

"That doesn't matter! Even Izuru is here. I thought for sure that Fuyuhiko was lying," she muttered before shivering. "He gives me the creeps. I didn't think that he would attend, to be honest."

"Agreed," you laughed. "Did you hear how he showed up in my room in the middle of the night."

She sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose. "Seriously, the worst."

"Well, what's done is done," you dismissed. "We managed to get everything done in a few days. It was just boring prep. Oh, but we did have a torture party! I remember that one of them was bawling like a baby when I cut out their friend's tongue. And the eye-gouging part by Fuyuhiko was brilliant!"

Mahiru frowned, though she was still focused on her work. Her index fingers and thumbs formed together to form a picture frame of the stage. "Yeah, Sonia told me about that. It sucks that we missed it. But, I had fun too while I was in Europe."

Seemingly satisfied with the venue, she plopped down on a plastic chair next to you. The green house was bustling with activity, just tiny minor details that needed to be cemented. Teruteru's buffet table was set up, a lavish red drape covering the wood. Ibuki's speakers, confetti launchers, and smoke machine were also on the stage, making it appear more like a live concert than a funeral.

You handed a mug of coffee and Mahiru thanked you, gulping down the bitter liquid hungrily.

"Oh yeah! How's dealing with rebels?"

Mahiru offered you an empty smile, her eyes showing the despair she made for herself. "How about I show you?" Without hearing your answer, she gave you her camera and you opened it up to begin scrolling through the photos.

Each one was gorier than the last.

A man with his guts ripped out, entrails leading a bloody trail from his torso to the ground. 

A woman missing her face and all you could see was muscle and bone. Her left arm was outstretched and on it, you can see the word ‘despair’ carved into her flesh. In her clenched right hand, there was a bloody rusty knife. 

Another corpse, whose gender you couldn't discern, was bloated and grey. A rope was tied around the body, straining against it. On the other end of the rope was a heavy wet stone used to make the corpse sink to whatever body of water it was in. 

You pressed the button, each picture getting more graphic until you landed on the last one. It was an aerial shot, taken from an upward angle. In the photo was a burning camp, the flames licking the air hungrily. Smoke billowed over the camps, yet even through the screen, you could feel the people's suffering.

"Where is this?" you inquired, pointing at the picture. You marveled at the destruction, not quite grasping that it was Mahiru who did this. If the Photographer was the one who did these horrible deeds, then your respect for Mahiru skyrocketed. 

"Well, Gundham was getting on my nerves on being a 'low-level demon'," she explained irritated. "I mean, I'm no killing machine. But, it still hurt. So, Sonia let me burn down a refugee camp in Bosnia. I got a lot of good shots and it shut Gundham up."

You cackled, holding your stomach over the mental image. "Making Gundham shut up? That's a sight. But, you had fun right? Killing those people? Destroying their only sanctuary and photographing it for your own entertainment?" 

There was a pause between the two of you, your head tilted as you curiously watched Mahiru's blank expression. You wanted to poke and prod more of her wounds, everything that could spiral her into despair. But, you stopped when you had your desired reaction. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes yet a hollow and aimless smile formed her face as she spoke to you. Inside of her green irises, you saw the misery and self-hate

"Ye-Yeah," she stuttered out. "It was so fun. I'm so proud of myself, you know? I'm not a boring little shutterbug, anymore. I'm a member of Ultimate Despair, too."

You flashed a sickly sweet smile at her. "Of course!" you exclaimed, clapping your hands together. "I never doubted you for a second, Mahiru, about where your loyalties lie. Let's immortalize Junko together. She’s the person that made us into the people we are today."

Mahiru weakly nodded, almost exhausted from the brief stint of despair. "You're right. You're absolutely right. Just a simple funeral for Junko isn't enough for her. We have to keep up the despair," the Photographer murmured half-heartedly. 

Keeping your mouth shut, you gave Mahiru a toothy grin "Whelp, that's why let's do our best! I bet the Princess already told you about the riots we've been setting up for the past few weeks. Just one last push."

Mahiru gathered herself and nodded. "Yeah. I…don't want this to end. Not when it's so much fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was this eventful as i hoped it would be? ofc not lol, but i wanted to put some characterization on how these four will be as Ultimate Despair.  
> a few references that I got from some of favorite fandoms: 
> 
> 1.) Anantashesha is the name of the King of Snakes from Hindu legend. I originally thought of this due to SCP-3000 and the just stuck with me (http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3000) 
> 
> 2.) The nickname 'Mother of Puppets' that Gundham calls the Director is one of the many names for The Web from The Magnus Archives (https://the-magnus-archives.fandom.com/wiki/The_Web)

**Author's Note:**

> https://erinin.tumblr.com/


End file.
